


Crashing and Saving

by SilverLightRaita



Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz, Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Adoption, Alex Rider needs a hug, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-typical language, Crossover, Gen, Hawaii Five-0 S4, Hurt/Comfort, Just Alex being an edgy teen, Let Alex Rest, Minor Steve McGarrett/Catherine Rollins, Other characters mentioned - Freeform, Set before Kono and Adam return, Slice of Life, The angst isn't crazy though, hurt character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2019-06-26 02:39:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 36,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15654051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverLightRaita/pseuds/SilverLightRaita
Summary: When Alex was forced back into the world of MI6, he wasn't expecting things to go bad so fast. A recon mission in Hawaii should have been far more relaxing than this. Curse his bloody luck of the devil.***Set after Alex Rider series; Set before Kono returns with AdamCanon-Typical Violence and Language[Completed]





	1. Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> First multi-chapter fic. Please tell me what you think and if there's any thing that needs to be fixed (grammar, misspells, etc.).
> 
> I love both these series and noticed a horrible lack in content connecting them. Here I am to bring them together! Hopefully I was able to capture the characters well. I'll be updating moderately.

A soft wailing struck the darkness that surrounded him. He couldn’t open his eyes. It was as if the lids were sealed shut, incapable of opening. Not only that, but it seemed as though he was unable to move anything. He had no feeling, only numbness that made his cold body tingle.

And then, as though someone had slammed his body into the ground, pain came screeching back. The quiet noise in the back of his mind came roaring to life. Voices, jumbled and yelling, racked his mind, new discomfort blossoming within his skull. He wanted to cover his ears. He wanted it to stop. He wanted to go back to the darkness. He couldn’t stand just hearing until he was hit by smell.

It was the smell of decay that hit first. Burnt skin wafted around him. The scent of gasoline pierced his senses next, then smoke, and a metallic scent rose in tow. The combination was enough to make him gag if it wasn't for the pit feeling within his gut.

His mind wouldn’t stop moving. He couldn't assess what was happening. The pain clawing his abdomen and back… The shrieking siren and scrambled shouts… The nauseating fumes… And finally a name… A single word ripped through his mind like a knife.

_**Yakuza** _

^^^^

Detective Danny Williams had seen his book full of cases. Murders to robberies to kidnappings to smuggling to even terrorist attack attempts, he'd seen it all. This, however true, didn't change the gut clenching feeling he got every time a child was involved with his line of work.

He let out a long sigh, turning away from the young teen sprawled out on the ground, blood clotting and soaking around his stomach. A dark stain had spread from under the boy’s head and across the asphalt. In general, the kid seemed to have been beaten up, dark bruises splashing in patches across his light skin and slipping under his clothing and into his messy blond hair line.

Danny ran his hand through his sandy hair, a few strands falling from place. It killed him to see kids die so young. The boy couldn't have been over sixteen. An image of his daughter, Grace, flashed across his mind. He sighed again, pushing the picture from his head.

The sound of foot steps made the Five-0 officer turn. His dark haired partner paused beside him, staring down at the splayed out body. Steve McGarrett turned to Danny, eyes hard. “Fill me in,” he demanded.

“Looks like a homicide,” Danny began. “Caucasian male, about age fifteen or sixteen. Gunshot to the abdomen by the looks of it…”

“What about him?” Steve asked, nodding towards the other body meters away.

The body looked torched, red skin peeled back and a rancid oder wafting in the air around it. It stuck out like a sore thumb in the musty alleyway. The boxes and tins around the corpse looked charred and sooty.

The dark blond wrinkled his nose. “We’re waiting for Max for that one. Looks like a human barbecue to be honest.”

His partner raised a brow. “Human barbecue?” he asked, a wryly smile sliding onto his face. “You look at a burnt corpse, and the first thing you think of is a barbecue?”

Danny scowled at him, narrowing his blue eyes. “Oh, and you have a better description? What was the first thing you thought of?’

Rolling his green eyes, the taller of the two snorted. “I thought what every normal person would think…” He paused.

The shorter looked at him expectantly. Crossing his arms, Danny took his turn in eyebrow raising. “And what would that be?”

“…A lobster…”

“What…”

“You know what, never mind.”

“No, really! What did you sa-…?”

“Oh, hey Max,” McGarrett cut him off, turning to the man behind them.

  
The short, asian man smiled at the duo, dark eyes twinkling behind his glasses. “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” he said radiantly. “I hope I am not interrupting.”

“You’re not interrupting anything,” blurted out the head of Five-0, ignoring Danny’s grumbling. “We have two victims. The crime scene is undisturbed so you can… have at it.”

“Thank you,” replied Max, pulling on a pair of gloves and wandering over to the younger of the two victims.

The two turned away as Max began poking and prodding the boy while crime scene photographers snapped shots. “I hate it when they’re young…” Danny murmured, looking out of the alleyway and past the bright, yellow barricade tape across the entrance. “I mean… What could he have done? He’s just a kid.”

“Evidently, something that was worth his and our human torch’s deaths,” Steve shot back, placing a reassuring hand on his friend’s shoulder. “We’ll get the guy, Danny. You don’t need to worr-…”

A yell startled both of them as Max fell back from the boy. The asian man held a look of horror on his face as, in an awkward flurry, the _dead_ teen scrambled up and bolted. Steve let out a stream of curses as he gave chase.

Danny turned to Max, who was rising to his feet, shaken. “I thought he was dead!”

“On the contrary,” the Chief Medical Examiner said, moving his glasses back into place. “He is, in fact, very much _alive_.”

“How could we miss something like that?”

“It seems he was in a comatose state. He lost lots of blood, enough so that his heart beat was quite faint. Not only that, but he did receive a harsh blow to the back of his head and a bullet to the abdomen. It is a miracle that he awoke, much less ran.”

“Why do you think he woke up?”

“I had begun to remove the bullet from the wound so we could test it but when I began pushing my tweezers into his wound, he woke and shoved me aside. He’s extremely strong for a child.”

As Max finished his explanation, McGarrett returned, sweat drenching his shirt and face. He wasn't with the boy. “Where’s the kid?” asked Danny, shocked.

Steve ran a hand through his messy hair. “He got away. The kid got away,” he huffed out, brows furrowed.

^^^^

When Alex had awoken to see an asian man sticking tweezers into his gut, he burst into motion. His fight or flight instincts raged over the burning pain the clawed at his body. Shoving the man away, he scrambled to his feet and bolted down the alley. He sped up as footsteps pounded after him. He couldn’t let himself be caught by these people, not until he could figure out what happened.

Darting down a side alley, the blond teen ran across the street, vaulting over the hood of a moving car and down the side walk. People cried out and moved out of the way Alex shoved past them. He could still hear others hollering behind him as his pursuer kept tailing him. Whipping his head around, he spotted another alley.

He ran down the new alley, body burning with pain. As he rounded another bend, the teen spotted a rusty red pickup truck in the shadows of one of the buildings. He took a chance and dove under it. He lay under the truck with his throbbing back pressed against the dirty wall of the building. The sound of echoing foot falls made him hold his breath.

The footsteps slowed, the person pausing to look around. Their shoes, black running shoes, and their legs, wearing khaki pants, moved past the truck as they continued down the alley. As their footsteps faded into the distance, Alex released his breath, running a hand down his face.

When he had taken this mission, he hadn't expected it to end up like this. Eleven months ago, his guardians, the Pleasures, had to return Alex to MI6. Ms. Jones, being put back down by Alan Blunt, had been apologetic. Alan Blunt had retired but, under unusual circumstances that Alex wasn't told, he had returned, demanding his _finest_ agent back.

He was swooped back up by MI6. They had explained, bluntly, that the Pleasures would no longer have custody over him. They had won him back as Blunt had claimed with a wry smirk across his face. And with that explanation, the teen had been tossed back into the spy world.

He first had gone through another training period with the military. Rather than a week, he was trapped there for seven to eight months. This time he was in a different Unit. Ben was on mission and the rest of SAS K-Unit had been deployed over seas. These people were more laid back but rarely spoke to their youngest recruit other than to help him along. Alex, dubbed Puma for his code name, had been pushed through grueling tests and had continued studies in foreign languages and cultures.

The members of his Unit, S-Unit, were fairly resourceful for homework. Ferret the Medic, a Russian European man with a lethe body and dark hair, could help somewhat with his Russian and some cultural information he hadn't understood. Falcon the Demolition expert, a tall, olive-skinned Italian who was raised in both Italy and England, helped him excel further in his Italian studies. Finally, Lion the Leader, a muscular Welsh with tanned skin, gave pointers on his German and Japanese as he had been deployed in both countries before.

While they were nice to their new comrade, Alex still felt excluded from the group. He couldn't exactly explain to them that he was MI6 and undercover to train for upcoming missions. He was simply a young sniper. As Puma, he was a short, eighteen-year-old with gun experience, not a sixteen-year-old spy. His gun experience made him their sniper. The skills he'd gained from Scorpia rubbed off in his training and, eventually, his abilities stacked up so that he became a perfect sniper.

When he found himself in front of the desk of Blunt, he still felt heavy resentment for the man but he had accepted his fate long ago. Alex was informed of his next mission, given his study material and alias, and was sent off for two week stop prepare for his trip to Hawaii. His new mission was to find a criminal organization, the Yakuza, and send information back. It was a simple mission; get in, get out.

What they hadn't planned on was Alex getting found by the Yakuza first. With all the luck in the world, he had to stumble in on the murder of a drug dealer and got caught in the mix. Alex cursed his luck; the luck of the devil as many called it. That luck had got him captured, let him escape with the only gadget he could get his hands on, and get captured yet again. He didn't imagine he'd get a bullet wound so early in his mission. He also didn't imagine being bait for a man that didn't know him.

The Yakuza had been waiting for someone, who evidently did something deserving to be scorched for. Alex had been forced to stand in place with a gun muzzle crammed into his abdomen as the two had shouted rapidly at each other in Japanese. He couldn't understand all the furious screams but he picked up a few words and names.

Yakuza, Adam, Kono, police, disappeared, China, where, die, traitor, don't hurt him, just a kid, tell you… And then the man was torched. They had apparently not gotten what they wanted. They shot Alex next, him being a useless bargaining tool and knowing too much.

Alex had been slammed into the ground, a rock cracking against his head. He blacked out as the men ran away. He had been out for at least fifteen minutes before he'd been awoken by the asian man leaning over him.

Now he was bleeding under a truck. _‘This day is just getting so much better,’_ he thought, glaring at the wall across the alleyway. _‘Go on this mission. It’s an easy one. Nothing bad will happen.’_ He shouldn't have gotten his hopes up.

Scooting out from under the truck, he look around warily before limping over to a stack off boxes next to a garbage can. Alex gingerly lifted his shirt. Clots of blood were smeared also his abdomen, and fresh crimson seeped from the bullet hole. He felt his throat tighten at the sight. He’d lost a lot of blood. If he didn't get any soon, he'd be six feet under sooner then later.

First though, there was the problem of lead being shoved into his body. Taking his fingers and a very unsanitary and very bent coat hanger from the garbage, he dug into the hole. He bit his tongue as he struck metal. Alex worked around the bullet, digging it out of his flesh.

Holding the bloody bullet in his hand, he had to use his other to steady himself. It felt like he was on fire, his stomach churring after doing surgery on himself. He turned his attention to the bloody chunk of metal in his hand. It was small, probably not ever ten millimeters long, and light weight. It was round nosed, probably meant for a pistol. Running through his knowledge of guns and bullets, Alex decided that he'd have to give this to a lab to find the exact type of bullet.

Shoving it into the pocket of his shorts, the wary teen rose to his feet. He had to go somewhere. His best chance was fining someone high in the police force. Something clicked in his mind. Five-0… They had been listed in his study material for this mission. They had also had run-ins with the Yakuza. He could remember a few details about the members but he had only skimmed the material, doubting it would be important on a simple reconnaissance mission.

With that in his mind, he stumbled out of his hiding, going on a search for the special task force for help.


	2. Chasing and Running

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I plan on updating every Saturday! So here is chapter 2.
> 
> Again, please tell me if I got any information wrong or if there is any grammatical errors. Thanks!

“How could that kid slip out like that?” asked Danny as they walked into the Palace. “He probably lost half his blood, just woke up, and, lets not forget a bullet in his body. And you, Steve, lost him.”

Steve groan, running a hand down his face, “I am aware, Danny.”

The second command huffed and crossed his arms. “Right, Navy SEAL.”

“I’d like to see you do better,” snapped the irritated commander. “You didn't see this kid move. It was like he didn't have a chunk of lead in him.”

Chin glanced up from the holotable as the two bickering men walked in. “I see that the kid is still gone?” he asked, looking between the duo.

McGarrett signed. “We haven't found him yet. What have you got, Chin?”

“The bullet casing you found at the scene is a .25 ACP. It came from a handgun, and I actually got a hit on it. Looks like our shooter isn't that skilled with covering his tracks.” Chin pulled up an image of an asian man onto the computer screen in front of them. “Meet Maki Akita. He’s in our database for robbery and illegal gun possession for the past few years and get this… He’s a member of the Yakuza.”

The man on screen was muscular and had a tattoo that stretched along his neck. His hair was dark and styled in a crew cut. He was scowling at the camera, eyes narrowed into dark slits of malice. It wasn't that surprising that he tried to kill a kid.

“So what…” Danny began, glaring at the man on screen. “Did the kid accidentally get a glance at him doing something illegal, and he decided to murder the boy?”

“Maybe it was a setup? Maybe the teen is some rich kid,” suggested McGarrett, turning to Chin. “Well?”

“That’s actually where things really get strange,” said Chin, returning to the holotable and slid multiple documents onto the surround computers. “The blood and images had a match but…”

The two commanders stared at the monitors in disbelief. “Classified?” mutter Steve, eyes darting from screen to screen. “How…”

“CIA, FBI, MI6, even the ASIS… He’s classified in all their systems. I sent a request for them to be opened but it was rejected,” explained Chin.

“So… We don't have a name?” Danny asks, raising a brow.

“Oh, we have a name…” Chin said, swiping up more documents, specifically passports. “And by name, I mean names. This kid has multiple passports.”

The names held a common occurrence of Alex as the first name but some varied. Felix Lester, Kevin Blake, Alex Friend, Alex Gardiner, Alex Rider, Federico Casali, Abdul Hassan, Alex Brenner, Alex Tanner, Alex Steward…

“What even…” whispered Danny, eyes wide in shock. “How could… Why…”

“That’s what I have yet to figure out,” Chin said, looking back at the two. “A large selection of the people listed as family are either deceased or don't exist at all. I can’t pinpoint his actual identity.”

“We have to find this kid before he gets worse. From the looks of these passports, he's never been to Hawaii until this month under the Steward alias. We have to figure out who he is and what happened,” stated Steve. “We have to be careful though… His actions and this…” He gesture up at the passport images. “…don’t sit with me well.”

^^^^

Alex ran a hand through his hair, agitation gnawing at his empty stomach. He hated it when he pickpocketed people. It wasn't a skilled he favored but it was useful. After swiping a key for a motel room from a leaving guest, he'd chosen to go straight to the shower.

The room itself was cheap with mold on the window still and peeling, yellowed wallpaper. The ugly, green carpet was torn in certain places, revealing cold, chipping cement beneath. Questionable strains dotted the coach, and the bed looked even more toxic. A wafting odor seemed to rise from a particular corner.

He wrinkled his nose. _‘Who in their right mind would stay here?’_ he pondered, carefully moving to the bathroom.

When he entered, he realized the bathroom was no better. The wall tiles were chipped and coated in slimy residue. Yellowed water filled the unsanitary toilet, a rancid smell rising from the dirty bowl. Splotches on toothpaste and greasy finger prints were smeared across the mirror. The shower curtain was frayed, and stains had firmly sunk themselves into the old fabric hiding the shower from few.

Alex gagged, drawing his lips back in a grimace. This was why Jack had always complained about motels. The owners gave little care for the rooms or the guests. “Disgusting…” he growled, carefully moving back the curtain. Luckily, the shower and tub themselves were relatively clean.

He carefully stripped the bloody clothing from his body, tossing them away from himself. Turning on the water, he shuddered as only cold poured out of the faucet. “Dang,” he hissed, accepted the icy streams that flowed down his clammy skin. Using the shampoo and body soap tubes left by the owner, the teen cleaned himself. Small rivers of pink swirled down the drain as he washed away the blood.

Once he finished, Alex turned off the water and cautiously slipped out of the tub. Towels ended up being stored in the cabinet below the sink. Wrapping a white one around his waist, the blond dried his hair as he limped into the main room. He unzipped a small, black suit case, finding a mix of cosmetics and medical supplies. After digging through the luggage, he found disinfectant and a large bandage. A sigh left his mouth. Gauze would be far better than an extra large band-aid but this would have to hold up for the time being.

After cleaning his wound with disinfectant and covering it, the boy rummaged through the bag for a few more minutes. The only other useful item inside was a bottle pain relievers. He unscrewed the cap, pour two onto his mouth, and shoved them into his mouth, dry swallowing the red pills.

He went through two more bags until he found male clothing. It most likely belonged the man he stole the key from as the clothing was roughly the size meant for a muscular adult. After searching for something that would fit somewhat well, he settled for a dark green shirt with the words “ALOHA!” printed in neon yellow across the chest, a pair of khaki shorts, and clean boxers.

Once he dressed himself, the spy shoved the bottle of pain relievers into one of the pockets of the baggy shorts. Alex slipped back into the bathroom, collecting the clothing he had discarded in the grimy floor. He withdrew the bloody bullet from the pocket of his jeans, tucking it into a washcloth and into the other pocket of his shorts.

Voices and a click made him stiffen. “I can’t believe you lost your key already! We’ve been here for one day,” chided a feminine voice as two people stepped into the room. “Not only that but you left your wallet!”

“Come on, babe,” whined a male voice. “I left it in the bathroom when I was getting ready. You can tell me you've never forgotten anything!”

The woman snorted. “I haven’t!”

“As if,” he scoffed. “You even left the room in a mess before we left!”

There was a long, drawn out silence. “But… I didn't do this…” whispered the woman. Alex held his breath, cursing his sloppy job in covering his mess.

“What…”

“Joseph, someone was in here!”

The man swore, bumbling around. “They went through our luggage, Grace,” he growled. “I’ll check the bathroom. Wait here.”

Alex swallowed. If he didn't act fast, he'd get caught. The only way he'd get out of this was with the element of surprise. He wasn't up to par with his lack of blood and the still numbing pain from his bullet wound. As the doorknob turned and clicked, he flew into motion.

Slamming the door open, he snatched the wallet from the counter and body slammed the man. The man, a muscular brunet, let out a startled yelp, falling onto the ground with a thud. Alex scrambled to his feet before stumbling past a stunned, Latina woman and out the door. As he made it to the street, he heard shout and forced himself to move faster. He couldn't get caught just yet.

He skidded down an alley, rushing into the next street and disappearing into the crowd. Only when he though he was far enough did his let himself lean against a wall. Clutching his side, Alex let out a heavy breath. Now he was a thief… Great.

The sound of waves drew his attention. He glanced down the street, catching a whiff of salt. Blue waves shimmered between some building, making him perk up slightly. He could figure out where he was by the beach name. At least then he could find his location.

Limping through a few streets, he crossed a parking lot and stood in the dry, windswept grass. He closed his eyes, inhaling the smell of the ocean and… shrimp? He caught sight of a black helicopter and a bright yellow and red food truck. A large, smiling face was printed on both machines, though the truck’s face was printed on a shrimp.

“A shrimp truck…?” the teen muttered, limping up to it. His stomach rumbled, making him groan. “It’s food at least…”

‘Maybe I can get information out of the owner,’ he thought as a large Hawaiian man came into view. He was obviously the owner of the truck, his face being plaster on the side of the vehicles parked in the area.

“What can I do fo’ you, lil’ man?” asked the bald man, a wide grin stretching across his face.

“I need some information,” the teen explained, speaking in his American accent.

“Sur’ thang, lil’ man!” exclaimed the man. “But for a price…”

Alex raised a brow at him. “A… price…”

“Yo’ gotta buy one thang from da menu,” he said. “Pick any thang from the Kamekona truck, and yo’ get your info.”

The young spy gave the man, apparently Kamekona, a skeptical look. “Alright then…” He pulled out the black wallet, sifting through the bills and pulled out a ten dollar bill. After a quick skim, he turned back to the cheerful Hawaiian. “Shrimp Fried Rice and a water.”

“Comin’ right up!” exclaimed Kamekona, bumbling back into the truck to collect the food. He returned moments later, a large box of Shrimp Fried Rice, a water bottle, and chopsticks in hand. “Whatcha wanna know, lil’ man?”

“Well… Where exactly am I?” Alex asked, taking the items from him. He opened the box, leaning awkwardly against the built in counter. The contents of the box smelled relatively good. He took a small bite, shocked at how decent it was.

The man scratch his bare head with a large hand. “Like big scale or city wise?” he asked. “How yo’ liking the rice?”

“City, and it’s not half bad.”

“Course it ain’t bad! It’s right from the Kamekona Shrimp Truck!” exclaimed the owner, crossing his arms. “An’ yo’, my friend, are in Honolulu, right on the beach itself.”

Alex choked on another mouthful of rice. “Honolulu?!” he coughed, then took a gulp from the bottled water. He had lost sense of direction long ago. This was definitely not where he thought he'd end up!

“There a problem, lil’ man?” Kamekona asked in concern. “You don’ look so good…”

“I’m fine,” blurted Alex, taking another bite from his box. “I’m just… At the wrong place. I was suppose to meet someone in… Pearl City. I must have taken a wrong turn. This is inconvenient…”

“That’s a pity,” agreed the man sympathetically. “I could get muh cousin ta lead yo’ to Pearl City if yo’ want.”

“A-ah, no thank you,” the teen said, waving a hand. “I’ll take a cab.”

Kamekona stared at him a moment, puzzled. “I thought chu’ said yo’ took a wrong turn… How'd yo’ get here?”

The questions made Alex freeze. He couldn't exactly tell the large man that he'd run here from a motel. Glancing down at the box in his hand, he realized that he'd basically finished the food anyways. _‘Oh well…’_ he grumbled to himself.

Shoving up off the counter, the teen made a run for it. A call of “Ey! Lil’ man!” resounded from behind him as he abandoned the shrimp truck. At least he had food in his body and knew his location. Heck, the fried rice wasn't half bad either.

But now he had a new problem. Where was he suppose to go from here? Sure, he could pop in on Hawaii Five-0 or the police. _“Hi! So I’m a teenage spy who came here to do a covert op on the Yakuza, witnessed two murders, got shot in the stomach, and robbed some people. Can you call MI6 so I can go home?”_ Alex snorted. As if they'd believe something as insane as that.

He’d winged missions before and made it out…fairly unscathed…normally scathed… Yeah, he was screwed.

When he stomach began to throb again, he stopped, leaning against a fence. The sun had begun to set, warm yellow light licking across buildings and pavement. Purple invaded the sky, wispy clouds darkening as the sun dipped into the water line. Shadows stretched out and down the ground.

Alex looked around and sighed. “Lost in Honolulu…” he muttered before a picnic table caught his eye; well, it was more the large oak reaching towards the heavens over it. Walking up to it, the boy ran his hand over the bark. It was a perfect climbing tree. Notches jutted out from the trunk, thick and strong. The branches were wide, spirally outwards from the base.

He hummed, thinking through his options. With a shrug, he decided to give it a shot. The teen began clambering up the tree, grunting as he strained his injury. When he got to the base of the majority of branches, he plopped down. He cursed quietly as he felt his stomach, a noticeable wetness blooming from his lower abdomen. The wound had reopened.

“And of course, I didn't bring extra bandages,” he muttered, holding the hand down on the wound.

Alex laid quietly for a while, listening to the sounds of Honolulu and its beach. Waved lapped at the sandy shore. Wind rustled the dry leaves of the oak tree. People chattered away as they walked along the sand or on the street. Cars whirred by, lights shining in the darkening light. A few gulls soared of head, squawking before vanishing into the air.

But eventually, there wasn't much sound, and Alex was alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I could bring to life Kamekona's mannerisms. I didn't want to write his verbal bits like everyone else; he has this particular way of talking that I just love.
> 
> Stay tuned for next Saturday! And I'm always open to conversation in the comments!


	3. Seeking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! I'm really glad you all have enjoyed this. You have no idea how much it makes me smile when I see the comments. 
> 
> Standing firm with Saturday updates. 
> 
> Again, tell me if I get any information wrong or if there are any grammatical errors. Thanks!!

A door slammed open, making the muscular, asian man jerk upright from his couch. He let out a cry of dismay as police crowded into his small, messy living room. Multiple guns were scattered along the room, mingling with old takeout boxes, papers, and dirty clothing.

“Maki Akita! This is Five-0!” shouted McGarret, stepping into the room with his gun raised.

In a panic, Maki snatched up one of the random pistols laying on the coffee table, shooting wildly. Officers ducked and scattered as a window broke. With that, the criminal made a run for it, ducking into a side room. He slid open a glass door and burst into the backyard. He didn't even notice he was only in a dirty tank top and boxers until he was shoved into the dirt.

“Why do they always try to run?” asked Danny to no one in particular.

Steve and Chin wandered up guns ready to fire if necessary. “Maki Akita, you are under arrest for the murder of Alex Steward and Keith Blanc,” stated Steve.

Keith Blanc was the burnt man. After Max had scrapped up dental history and a few useable DNA samples, he'd sent the info over to Five-0. “I also found a large quantity of gasoline on his person and on the ground around his body. It seems as though Mr. Blanc was doused before he was lit,” the examiner had explain. Turned out that Keith Blanc was a Japanese American business man who had ties in the Yakuza as well as a father of three children. The only question in Five-0’s minds was why he was killed.

“Murder? I didn't kill Keith! Who is Alex Steward?!” gasped the man under Danny, his arms clamped in the officer’s grasp.

The blond growled and punched the criminal in between the shoulder blades. The crook grunted in pain, getting his face shoved deeper in the rocky dirt. “Alex Steward is the teenager you shot in the gut and let to die!” he snapped, fire burning in his eyes.

“K-kid?” he stuttered, eyes wide. “I haven't killed any kids! I’m just the gun holder!”

“Gun holder?” asked Chin, stepping into view. “Who’d you give the gun to?”

“I don’t know! I don't ask who gets which gun! I just store, load, and pass ‘em on!” wailed Maki, shifting under the officer’s lofting glare. “You have to believe me!”

“We need a list of every gun you've given out and when,” McGarrett demanded, then looked at his partner. “Book ‘em, Danno.”

“Really… We’re back to Danno again?”

^^^^

“We processed the list Akita gave us,” Chin said, pulling up a list of names and guns. “Looks like we need to find a man by the name of Saki Hiroshi. He was the last one to retrieve guns from our guy.”

Danny wiped his bloody fist in a handkerchief. “Adds up to what he told us,” he replies, shoving the stained fabric into his pocket. “Dude gets three different guns over the past two months from gun boy, and we can only trace one of them. I did get some information about Keith though. Apparently he cut ties with the Yakuza when Adam and Kono went off grid. My guess is that they're still trying to make sure Adam is ‘dead,’ and thought crispy had intel.”

“Who’s crispy?” asked a feminine voice behind the two. Catherine wandered up to them, hands behind her back.

“Crispy is our last vic,” the blond man explain. “You got here kind of late. You missed out on our raid.”

“I was trying to contact Steve,” the dark haired woman said, wandering up to a computer. “I couldn't get in touch. You guys know where he is?” She paused when she skimmed over the report on screen. “Saki Hiroshi?”

“The person we think killed crispy,” replied Danny.

“Ah.”

“And I think Steve is trying to find our runaway vic.”

“Runaway vic… You mean the kid Steve was ranting about on the phone last night?”

“I guess?”

She shook her head, long waves of her hair falling over a shoulder. “Well, if we’re going to find this Saki Hiroshi, where are we going to look?”

Chin spoke up this time. “That’s just it. We can’t get a location. He’s been all over the place. I got a few hits; a car rental here and there, too many apartments to live in, and surveillance cameras catching glimpses.”

“So… The guy’s like a ghost?” asked Danny looking at the captured images of a tall, short-haired man. More often than not, the Japanese man wore dark suits, looking like a fine businessman. “Hey… Is that what I think it is?”

He pointed at the screen. Saki Hiroshi, still in formal wear, was sitting on a picnic table bench, sand and waves in the background. The edge of a bright red and yellow truck could be made out on the right hand side of the shot. They looked at each other, surprised.

“He went to Kamekona’s?” Chin asked, surprised. “I admit his place isn't bad but…”

“This is a surveillance camera that got taken down last week because of vandalism, right?” Catherine piped up, tapping her chin. “This was in the feed before it was taken down. Look at the date. We should be able to ask Kamekona about this.”

“True,” murmured their asian partner as he tapped away at the holotable. “But look at this.”

He swiped more images upwards. A familiar face appeared on screen. Keith Blanc had walked in and, as Chin added more shots of the scene, it was evident that the two hadn't liked each other. They seemed to be yelling at one another in one frame until a few later, Kamekona was breaking them up.

“Looks like they're not buddies,” snorted the second in command, crossing his muscular arms. “Think Kamekona will remember them?”

“Oh, he’ll remember,” Chin said, stepping back. “Let’s go find out what happened.

^^^^

The crick in his neck was aggravating. _‘Note to self,’_ Alex thought, rubbing the back of his neck with his palm as he rose shakily from his perch. _‘Don’t sleep in trees.’_

He lifted his other hand from his abdomen. A spike of pain make him blanch, realizing his hand was covered in dry blood. “Well crap…” he hissed out to himself. The wound had scabbed over but now a dark brownish red patch had seeped into the clean ‘ALOHA!’ shirt. The teen gritted his teeth in frustration. This was going to be a long day until he could find a way to contact MI6.

Carefully, he scrambled down the rough trunk of the oak tree. It was long past early morning, the sun traveling towards its peak. Using a hand, he shielded his eyes from the scorching rays of sunlight. People were mingling around, either heading to the shore or into the city. Now was the decision of where to go next.

His instincts told him that the city was safest at the moment. The Yakuza were still out there. He didn't know who had found him. Whether it was police or the Japanese mafia, he'd rather be safe than sorry. Hiding in the alleyways and crowds was natural to him at this point. Distance running along a beach with a bullet wound? Not so easy.

Letting his feet carry him, Alex wandered through out the city of Honolulu. Skyscrapers soared over head. Clouds floated in a backdrop of blue across their reflective windows. Men, woman, and children flowed around him, taking no notice of the young spy as he trudged onward into the unknown.

Cars flew by on the city roads. The hoods’ glimmered in the sun rays, sending blinding light in their wake as they flashed by. Music blared, different genres and loud voices blurring together. A headache built up in his skull. He wanted to vomit. Maybe city wasn't the best choice. He had forgotten how cramped they could be for a second.

He ducked into an alleyway, resting his forehead against a brick wall. The blond let out a long breath before inhaling and turning. What he hadn't noticed was the straggly thief that had appeared out of no where. The man, probably late-twenties with scruff on his face and his hood pull up, held a pocket knife up, pointing it at Alex.

“Giv’ meh all yer money!” the thief growled, waving the knife around ‘threateningly.’

Alex gave him a long look. “What…”

“Yer money!”

“Ok, look man. I don't have that much cash on me as far as I know, I just got shot yesterday, and I want to vomit,” the teen said, blankly. “And if you think that you're going to rob me after what I’ve been through in the last twenty-four hours, you are wrong.”

A long silence stretched as the two stared at each other. The man glanced down at the dried blood on the boy’s shirt, the bruises on his arms and under his eye, and the look of utter distain in his narrowed, brown eyes. He blinked slowly for a moment before jabbing at Alex with his knife and backing away.

“I ain’t gonna mess with some looney!” the thief hollered, shuffling away to find a less.. freaky victim to rob.

Alex ran a hand down his face. This day was just getting better and better. _‘What’s next? A gangster mob claiming I’m trespassing on their turf?’_ he wondered in frustration, gripping the trash tin next to him. “I mean… It can’t get any worse from here, can it?” he muttered to himself.

“Hey, you alright?” A young woman spoke up as she stopped, lowering her phone. She was at the edge of the alleyway, peering down at him. “Oh _goodness_ … Are you bleeding?! Let me call 911!”

And he'd spoken too soon. Of course, he’d jinx something like this. Turning, he ran for the third time in the fast twenty-four hours, ignoring the wails of concern from the woman he left behind. He still needed to find out about the Yakuza and get back to MI6 before he was totally blown out of the water.

He vaulted over a fence, leg catching on the wood. It sent him crashing into some trash cans on the other side. The blond gasped in silence pain as he clutched his gut. He really needed to stop doing that. He could feel the scabs cracking along the tender flesh, sticky blood seeping out once again. He’d be bloodless by the end of the day if he kept this up.

Alex stumbling forwards before falling, black spots melting into his line of vision. He lay, breaths raspy as he tried to catch his breath. The pain was hot, and bile rose in his throat. “Damn it,” he choked before passing out in the middle of the cluttered alleyway, surrounded by garbage cans and boxes.

^^^^

Steve met the trio at Kamekona’s truck. “What’d you guys find?” he asked, plopping down beside his girlfriend.

“We think we found the killer. Any luck with the boy?” Chin replied, furrowing his brow as he asked about the runaway vic.

The commander shook his head in dismay. “Not a clue where he went. I found a trail that led to a dead end at a motel. A couple was robbed but we couldn't trace where then kid went. I’m going to put out a search when we get back.”

“Well, first you need to eat,” stated Catherine, grinning. “Then we find the kid.”

“Ah, it’s muh most valued custom’ahs!” cheered Kamekona, bumbling over to the group. “What can I get for yo’?”

“My regular would be great,” said Danny. “And this bill is not on me.”

“All in favor of Steve paying say I,” Chin chimed in and a small chorus of I’s rose into the air. Steve, in turn, scowled at the three, muttering about his empty wallet.

Once they had ordered, they got down to business. “Kamekona,” Catherine pipped up, moving the shrimp in her styrofoam box around with a plastic fork. “We’re on a case, and one of our suspects was here, last week to be exact…”

Chin stuffed a forkful of food into his mouth before showing the large man a picture of Keith Blanc and Saki Hiroshi. Recognition filled Kamekona’s eyes. “Those two were da ones who got into a fight h’re last Friday,” he said, crossing his arms. “Had to break ‘em up.”

“Do you know what they were fighting about,” Steve prodded, leaning towards the large man.

“Gonna have to give a lil’ incentive for that info, bruh,” chimed the man, rubbing his thick thumb and finger together.

A loud sigh was released from Danny’s mouth. “Look, Kamekona. There’s a kid out there that could be dead in a ditch because of this argument. We need to know why they were fighting so we can get some kind of lead,” explained the detective, eyes hardening.

Kamekona paused. “A kid… Sheesh…” he said, lowering his hand. “Alright. The two of ‘em were fightin’ about some deal or somethin’. Coulda swore the businessy said somethin’ bout Kono and h’r man Adam. I shooed ‘em away though. Bad for business, bruh.”

“They mentioned Kono and Adam?” murmured the asian officer, clenching his fists. “I thought we put away all of Michael’s men…”

“Looks like we missed a few,” said Steve, placing a comforting hand on the officer’s shoulder. “We’ll find him. Don’t worry.” The only response he got was a subtle head nod.

“Do you have any idea where the business man went?” asked Catherine, pushing her dark hair over her shoulder.

“He stormed away to this nice lookin’ car. Musta’ve been expensive,” said Kamekona as he tapped his chin. “I think it was red or somethin’. Real shiny ‘nd stuff. I coulda swore it was a convertible too.”

The young woman nodded with a smile. “Thanks for the information.”

“Eh, no problem. Can’t believe there’s so many lil’ guys out there right now though. That one yesta’day looked like he was in real trouble…” murmured Kamekona, a frown settling on his face.

“One from yesterday? What do you mean?” asked Chin.

“Well… There was this lil’ guy h’re yesta’day lookin’ all worn out ‘nd stuff. He said he was lost ‘er somethin’. Got himself some ah my fine Shrimp Fried Rice; said it was good. But when I asked some questions, he got all panicky ‘nd ran off down da street,” the shrimp vendor explain. “Couldn’t find ‘im. He looked kinda beat up though.”

The group looked one another wide eyed. Steve tapped away at his phone, pulling a picture onto the screen. He whirled around, staring down the large man. He flipped the phone around for him to look at. It was a picture of their missing vic, the blood splatter around his head, eyes shut, and a heavy bruise under his eye.

Kamekona gaped at the phone. “Dat’s ‘im! He dead?” the man asked, surprised and looking extremely upset. “He was just h’re lat night…”

“No… He’s our runaway vic from early yesterday morning,” explained Danny with his brows furrowed. “But he ran off with a bullet in his gut. How’d he make it this far?’

“He can’t be far. If he looks hurt, someone has had to of seen him sometime. Let’s go,” Steve stated, turning and running to his truck. The others followed suit, leaving a concerned Kamekona behind.


	4. Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's late! I finally got some decent sleep since starting school (7 hours to be exact), and I had some errands today. I promise it'll be on time next week.
> 
> I'd like to say thank you to those who have been supportive of the story so far. It makes me feel so happy.
> 
> As always, please tell me if any information is incorrect or if there were grammatical errors.

McGarrett’s phone buzzed. The Navy man swiped it from his pocket, sliding the answer tab. “What’d you find?” he demanded, slowing from his run.

  
“I picked up an alert in your area,” said Chin’s muffled voice. “Looks like he gave a lady a scare off of Kalakaua Avenue. She’d been passing by when she saw him leaning on a wall in an alleyway and bleeding. When she called an ambulance, he made a break for it. That was ten minutes ago.”

“Ok, so what are we looking for now Chin?” Steve asked, running towards the avenue. “He couldn't have made it too far.”

Tapping could be heard over the speaker before the Lieutenant replied. “Messy, blond hair. Bruises on arms and face. Green shirt with aloha written in capital, yellow letters. Blood stain on the lower abdomen. Khakis and barefoot? Has this kid been barefooted this entire time?”

“No… He had shoes when he ran from us yesterday. He probably dumped them somewhere,” said the commander, crossing the street and weaving through people. “I’m almost to the last sighting. Telling me if you find anything.”

Ending the call, the man turned down the alley and looked around. It was gloomy and dirty, not different from any other alley. He walked along the wall, eyes skimming over the ground and brick work. The sight of a red smudge made him pause. Leaning down, he rubbed a hand over the rough surface, staring down at the streaks of dark crimson across his palm and fingertips.

Steve warily wandered further down the alley, spotting bits and pieces of disturbance along the ways; scattered tin cans, a splatter of mud from a puddle, a knocked over trash can, trampled papers and boxes… The kid had definitely been disoriented in his rush.

He followed the alley, picking a direction and rounding a bend. Then, he saw the fence. The wood has tall, dark, and a splatter of red near to top. He ran forwards, clambering over the wood. McGarrett didn't expect to find a body.

The teen was sprawled across the ground. Blood was streaked across the ground from where he had slid down to his placement. His body barely moved. A slight heave with every slow breath was the only sign of life. The shirt on his frame was torn and muddied, and the khakis were no better. His bare feet looked worn, asphalt grit turning the pads of his feet a dark grey.

Steve made his way around the garbage cans around the boy. He knelt down next to him, gently pressing two fingers to his neck. The pulse was weak against his fingertips. Sucking in a deep breath, he dialed Chin.

“What’d you find, Steve?” asked the man on the other end.

“I found him. He needs medical help fast,” stated the commander, leaning back on his heels. “Get an ambulance to my location. I’m in an alleyway so I don't know the exact place, and I’m not leaving him alone so you'll need to track my phone.”

“Right,” replied Chin, tapping away at the holotable. “They’re on their way. Good luck.”

^^^^

Chin stretched, before turning. The boy was on his way to the emergency room with McGarrett. Danny went home to check on his daughter, and Catherine was racing to meet Steve at the hospital. That left the man alone to his thoughts.

He knew that wiping out Michael’s followers wouldn't put a stop to Yakuza troubles. Kono was still searching for Adam to bring him home. His cousin had bluntly stated that she wasn't returning unless her boyfriend was in tow.

She was in the states by now, following a lead she caught a whiff of a few days back.

The asian man ran a hand down his face, sighing. He missed his surfing cousin. He missed her help at the office. He missed her wit and the light she brought with her. He missed her intelligence and skill in split second decisions but also the love and care she had for the people she protected.

“Chin?” came a soft voice from behind.

The man in question jumped a little, looking over his shoulder. “Jerry? What are you doing here?”

The large man, Jerry Ortega, wandered in, tugging at the sleeve of his jacket. “I heard about something over the web, and I wanted to check it with you.”

His friend gave him a questioning look. “What is it?” Chin asked, resting against the holotable. “I don't know if I can help if it’s related to any of your theories.”

“Well…” Jerry began, pushing some of his long, dark curls back over his shoulder. “I heard some chatter that you guys are on a case looking for a kid that got shot, right?” When he received a nod, he continued. “The thing is…

The kid meets the profile of a project that went down two years ago.”  
  
“So? What does it have to do about our mystery vic?”

“You don't know his name yet? You have tools to do that though.”

“We do but it came up with multiple IDs with different names.”

Jerry’s dark eyes lit up. “No way. So this kid could be him!”

“Who Jerry? What does this have to do with our vic and how do you even know his description?” asked Chin, raising a brow.

“I may or may not have listened in on an officer’s radio at the description of a missing victim…” murmured the conspirator, scratching at his scruffy chin. “And back a few years ago in France, there was a huge project that got busted. Apparently, a scientist found a way to clone his DNA and started kidnapping kids that went to his reform school. Info leaked, and the SAS ransacked the place. The British agencies tried to cover it up but some of the kids posted online about it a while ago.”

“Strange but I don't follow…”

“Let me finish! The teens, all rich kids, kept mentioning this kid that helped save them. I looked into it a bit when it was all over the internet but… only one had a name for him, and it came to a dead end. The posts ended up being taken down soon after they were put out, and I looked around for a while.

The description I had got me a little further but I hit too many dead ends to continue looking. He's been spotted everywhere but all clips and picture of his are either taken off the internet or blurred beyond recognition. People

I’ve talked to have seen him in Europe and in the Americas. I didn't think I’d ever find a matching description here!”

“Jerry, who do you think this kid is?” demanded the lieutenant, a skeptical look on his face. “How could this kid be our vic?”

His friend moved forwards. “He fits all the descriptions I’ve found!” he exclaimed before counting off with his fingers as he spewed off facts. “Fair haired, male teenager, always correlated with violence or huge conspiracies that fall out, always a different name, normally hurt when spotted, able to just disappear out of nowhere…”

“I still don’t follow. This could just be a coincidence,” Chin replied.

“It has to be him! Have you ever met a kid who can take a bullet and run for two days?” asked Jerry. “He has to be the Teen Spy!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa… Teen Spy? Jerry…”

“There’s a following on this all over the world. They've collected info from all over Europe and America! They linked him to the Point Blanc Cloning, the deaths of Herod Sayle and Damian Cray, and even some activity with a

Snakehead organization in Australia! This kid fits the details that have been put out.”

“This is a stretch…”

“…What about this. Some people claim that he was sniped in England. A bunch of people saw a teenager fitting your victim’s description get shot but it was never broadcasted over the news. If you find him, he should have a scar from it!”

“We did find him. He's at the hospital in surgery by now.”

“You found him! Can I meet him?”

“I don't know, Jerry…”

“I can prove to you that he is who I say he is!”

“…I’ll call Steve…”

^^^^

Steve hung up the call, furrowing his brow. He knew that Jerry was smart, evidence being his help with a past case or two, but this was far beyond possibility. Chin explained Jerry’s beliefs about the vic asleep in the hospital bed next to him.

He stared at the blond teen. The doctor’s had been able to patch him up, finding the bullet already removed. It was a matter of keeping the boy healthy and pumping with blood, which he'd lost a lot of over the last forty or so hours. McGarrett was allowed to stay with him to make sure he didn't try anything stupid.

Another thing nagged at his mind. The scars and bruises… They were older than when he'd arrived in Honolulu. The doctor had told him about multiple along the vic’s torso, including one resembling a bullet wound above the heart. “I’ve seen many scars as a doctor but this one is not one I’d forget easily…” the man had said to McGarrett before heading off to check a different patient.

The commander leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. This entire situation seemed entirely insane yet here was a child who had been running for two days after having a bullet forced into his gut. He’d never seen something like this, not even when he was in the Navy. Jerry’s suggestion actually started to look less and less like fiction.

“Steve?” a voice murmured from the doorway. Catherine warily stood just inside the room, glancing at the teen in the medical bed.

“You can come in. He’ll be sleeping for a while,” Steve prodded, motioning for her to come in. “And I need to talk to you about something…”

The dark haired woman stood still for a moment before slipping in. She stood on the other side of the bed, arms limp at her side. Her normally bright eyes seemed dull as she took in the form of the young boy wrapped in bandages and hospital blankets. Steve noticed her appearance was slightly disheveled.

His girlfriend’s usual image, bright and orderly, was replaced by something more grim. Her hair was sloppily put into a ponytail, strands falling into her face. The black shirt rumpled awkwardly against her frame, and her jean capris held muddy stains. Her badge had been clipped carelessly onto the pocket, barely holding on.

“Catherine? You okay?”

The woman in question snapped out of her daze. “Hm? Oh… Sorry,” she mumbled, pushing dark strands out of her eyes. “I heard that you found him so I came right over.”

McGarrett gave her a hard look. “That’s not all that’s eating you… What’s wrong?”

“It’s just…” she paused, taking a deep breath. “He’s so young… I’ve seen kids his age fighting in Afghanistan… I haven't seen a kid this beat up since then… He looks so…”

“Defenseless,” the brunet finished. “I know.”

Catherine gave a long sigh, moving over to his side. “Now…” she began. “What do you need to talk to me about?”

“Well… It turns out this isn't the first time our vic took this kind of beating. The doctor found multiple scars that date back at least two or three years. Multiple broken bones in the past as well as another bullet wound,” the commander explained, thinking back to the conversation with the doctor.

His girlfriend’s jaw clenched. “Where was the bullet wound?”

“Right above the heart…”

She swore under her breath.

“He let me look at the wound,” Steve continued, glancing at the teen. “It’s from a sniper. The angle and size of the wound match a sniper rifle. It had too have been only a year ago at the most.”

“It has to still hurt,” Catherine said, also looking back at the teen. “What’re we going to do with him now? Do you think he knows what was going on with the Yakuza?”

“We’ll just have to find out,” he answered.


	5. Trading Info

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for not updating the past two weekends. I'm a college student, and when it comes between actually get homework done and catching up on sleep, I'm more prone to want to partake in some nice self-care once in a while. I'll try to avoid missing any updates.  
> \----  
> It's chapter five! At long last!! Way more fun writing this than essays...

The first sound that came into his senses was a soft beeping sound. It was rhythmic and subtle. It almost began to lull him back to sleep until he realized that the sound was painfully familiar. He forced himself to awaken, cracking open tired, brown eyes.

Alex blinked for a few moments as bright light shone into his eyes. With half lidded eyes, he turned his head slightly. In a worn, cushioned chair, a man sat with his head propped up in one hand. He had lightly tanned skin and short brown hair. Short scruff lined his upper lip, jawline, and chin. His muscles were evident under his dark blue shirt and jeans. Two tattoos were partly visible from both sleeves, the green and light purple of a flower and the blueish-purple of the lower half of a woman’s face.

The teen stared blankly at him before he looked away. The man was asleep for the moment. He now looked down at himself. A stereotypical white hospital gown swamped his form. Bandages branched along his arms, the spy could feel the gown’s fabric rubbing against wrapping around his torso.

He remained silent, gently rubbing his chest where the old sniper wound was. It had begun to twinge again, sending dull spasms of pain across his torso. Blinking, he noticed the cracked door on his left. There was faint sounds of bustling along what looked like a corridor. He squinted, seeing the faint movement of doctors, nurses, and patients wandering back and forth down the halls.

 _‘Brilliant,’_ Alex thought, leaning back. _‘I’m in a bloody hospital…’_

A quiet creak made him jump slightly. A woman stood in the doorway, two bottles of water in one hand as the other held the door handle. She stared at him dumbstruck, glossed lips parted. “Steve,” she said in a soft voice. “Steve, he's awake.”

The man, Steve apparently, stirred, blinking his eyes. “Cath-…” he paused, noticed the young boy’s gaze on him. He stiffened, noticing the hardness in the teen’s light brown eyes. They were sharp and calculating, thoroughly observing the commander.

“You’re awake,” he said, face blank for a moment. Rising, Steve walked up to the bed. “We have a few questions for you.”

Alex clenched his jaw. Who were these people? They didn't seem like the Yakuza. The Yakuza was an asian-based group. That didn't mean they weren't affiliated with the mafia. They could easily be information brokers, Yakuza bounty hunters, or even native operatives that simply work under the main force.

Any other way, the Yakuza had to have informed others that he'd gotten away. The only way he could be safe is if they were a minor sect of the group on a “personal” mission of sorts. If this was the case, he’d have to take down that sect before word got loose about a young spy digging in Yakuza affairs.

Steve let out a sigh as Alex narrowed his eyes at the two of them. “Look, kid. I’m Commander Steve McGarrett and this is Catherine. We’re with Five-0.”

The blond teen jolted up, eyes widening. “You’re… Five-0?” His accent broke through as he spoke, no longer American.

The two looked at each other. “That’s right,” answered Catherine, shuffling closer. “How’d you know about us?”

Alex ignored this question glancing between the two before looking down at his bandaged hands. He furrowed his brows, lips twitching slightly. He didn't know whether to be overjoyed or suspicious. “You’ve got to be joking,” he muttered bitterly. “I’m never this lucky.”

“We’re not joking, and you are extremely lucky this time,” stated the commander. “You lost a large amount of blood, not to mention avoiding infection. But we have some questions.” “And by some, we mean a lot,” added the woman beside the tall man.

This made the boy exhale a long breath. “I wish I could,” he murmured, closing his eyes for a moment. _‘Safe… I’m safe…’_ was all that ran through his mind. “But my boss wouldn't like me telling more people without signing the form again.”

“Form?”

“Ah… The Confidentiality Agreement Form…”

The two stared incredulously at him. As Catherine opened her mouth to ask him about what he meant, a large man burst through the door. He had long, dark curls that rained down his back and a dark beard. His eyes were wide and excited. His clothes a graphic t-shirt under a jacket and cargo shorts were rumpled as though he ran through the hospital.

“Steve! I heard that-…” he stopped mid-sentence as he noticed the teen. “It’s him!”

“‘It’s him?’ Jerry? How'd you get here so fast?” the commander questioned, puzzlement shining in his eyes.

Jerry ignored him, rushing up to the bed. Alex stiffened as the large man leaned over him. “You’re the Teen Spy, right?!” he asked, grinning.

Alex blanched, sinking further into his hospital bed. How'd this man know he was a spy? Of course, Teen Spy was an awkward title but it was a blunt description of what he was. He was a spy, and, by definition, he was still a teen. The boy may not act like it but he was still a teenager.

“Jer!” shouted a voice from outside the door. Another figure came through. He was asian, dark hair and a concerned look on his face. His skin was tanned and had sharp cheek bones. He wore a dark gray button up shirt and jeans. A badge and holster were visible on his belt.

“I told you, Chin!” Jerry babbled ecstatically. “This has gotta be him!”

The teen looked around the group. They were far from what he thought Five-0 was. Weren't they suppose to be a serious unit with full immunity? They could essentially do whatever they wanted. That made his mind click to a simple solution. They had immunity. They don't need the bloody agreement form.

“You,” started Alex, drawing their attention. “Jerry, correct?”

The man in question pointed to himself, surprised. “Me?” At the nod, he smiled. “Yep!”

“Why do you think I’m a spy?”

“Well… There’s been this myth going around about a kid that’s been described like you was a spy. James Bond kind of spy! He goes all over the world, taking down evil organizations. It started with some kids at Point Blanc and then spread all over the world.”

Alex snorted. “Really? I thought it'd start when I almost shooting the Prime Minister.”

Jerry gapped. “That was you?! I thought it was some Russian terrorist. Everyone thinks that it was the guys that killed the creator of the Stormbreaker.”

“No, Herold Sayle was a criminal that got killed by a Russian hitman. I was stopping the Prime Minister from being tricking into killing children all over England,” explained Alex bluntly.

The other looked blank while the conspiracy theorist was bursting from the seams with excitement. “So he was a criminal! How’d he plan on killing all the kids!?”

The spy glanced at the others. “Um… I think this place isn't exactly the best place to be talking. Doesn’t Five-0 have a secure facility?”

Steve McGarrett nodded. “We do but you're still healing. You need to continue resting.”

“I’d rest better knowing I'm secure,” Alex reasoned. “Besides, I’ve had worse then this and still had to finish my missions.”

^^^^

“Why the handcuffs?” asked the teen, shifting his wrists. A light clank came from the metal cuffs. “I thought we were friends.”

“We’ll see,” replied Steve, leaning against the holotable. “First, we need an actual name.” He nodded towards Chin. The man swiped up the teen’s multiple IDs onto the monitors. The commander looked back at the boy, who looked fairly surprised. “So, which one is the real you?”

“Mmmm… I forgot how many of these they cooked up,” the boy murmured. “Though they never were original. I would have though you'd have guess by repetition.”

“We aren't wanting to play, kid,” rumbled Grover, crossing his dark arms. The man was fairly annoyed, being called last that they had their vic at the Palace. “Why doncha tell us?”

In turn, the vic smirked. “Ah… But that would ruin the fun!” Noticing the roomful of glares, he dropped the playful attitude. “Fine, fine. Name’s Alex. You don't need a last name to address me by.”

“You think this is some kind of game, don't you?” growled Danny. “Your shooter is still out there! If he finds out you're alive, you know what’s gonna happen? The Yakuza doesn't like us that much. They also don't like witnesses either.”

Alex’s eyes darkened. “I’ve gone toe-to-toe with people far worse than a Japanese Mafia,” he snapped, making the detective back up a step.

“Tell us about it then. Why would you have so many IDs, and why would you be against people like the Yakuza?” asked McGarrett, placing a hand on Danny’s shoulder.

The young blond looked away for a moment, contemplating his options. It was event to the task force that he was running through his options. “Ok… I’ll explain a bit to you. But this is on two  
conditions,” Alex stated, eyes boring into Steve’s. “First, none of this leaves this room. If word gets out about me talking to someone else, my employers aren't going to be happy. Second, no interrupting until I finish.”

Steve sighed. “Alright. Everyone hear that?” He pointedly looked at Jerry. “Nothing gets out about Alex or his employers.”

Letting out a breath, the teen leaned against the holotable. “I am, as Jerry said, a spy. I work for MI6 and have been doing this for three years. My family had worked for them in the past. All died  
because of them as well. At my uncle’s funeral, the head of MI6 decided that I would be a perfect replacement for my father and uncle. No one exactly expects a kid to do a man’s job.

Overall, I’ve been on roughly seven missions along with… personal endeavors… I’ve trained discreetly by my uncle, a group in military training, and other… organizations. I’ve worked with the CIA, MI6, FBI, and ASIS. I’ve been dubbed multiple things, though Teen Spy is a new one, and I’ve been told that I have the ‘luck of the devil.’ All in all, I’ve seen more action than most soldiers and probably can do more things any kid my age can… Like remove these handcuffs without you guys knowing.”

As he finished, he set the handcuffs on the holotable, resting his arm on it’s glass surface. The team stared at him blankly while Jerry was trembling. “I was right! I was right!” he almost sang, voice full of giddiness. “Is it true you took down Scorpia?”

At that, Alex blanched for the second time that day. “I would… rather not talk about that…”

“Oh! Oh… Rough topic. Nevermind,” the conspirator replied, waving his hands. “But uh… could you tell me more about your missions later? I have a few of my own!”

“Really? What have you done?” asked Alex, slightly interested.

“Found a lost treasure”

“No way! That’s brilliant!”

“It was awesome! And don't get me started on the-…”

“Jerry, can we finish with the teen?” asked Catherine, gently placing her arm on his forearm. “We still need to know some things…”

“Right, right! Sorry,” he apologized awkwardly.

“Now… You're a spy… From what we’ve seen, I guess its obvious that isn't a lie. Why were you here then?” Steve asked, continuing the first conversation.

“Mission number seven actually,” began Alex, rising from his slouched position. “I was sent here to do a check in on the Yakuza. Apparently there has been some chatter about them in the Americas and Asia. My employer wanted to know what’s going on. Since I’m back in the field after some training, he decided a simple information op would get me back into motion. As you know, it didn't go as planned.”

“What’d you find out then? Had to be somethin’ pretty important to get shot over,” asked Lou Grover, raising a thick brow.

The teen gave a weak smile in response. “That’s the thing… I’m not fluent in Japanese yet. I only picked up on a few things. I was caught at one of their storage houses, a warehouse. Some lower grunts were planning on finding someone to get information out of. I misjudged my hiding spot and was found. Apparently, the guy they were planning to interrogate cares a lot for kids because they used me for leverage. They didn't try to interrogate me though. Probably thought I was some street kid and decided just to bag me instead.”

“They kept mentioning Adam and Kono along with a few other things, like calling the man a traitor. I honestly have no idea what it was all about. Do you guys have any idea what’s going o-…” Alex stopped realized that the team was standing stiffly. “What’s wrong?”

Steve was quiet for a few moments before speaking up. “Adam Noshimuri… He’s the son of Hiro Noshimuri…”

Alex jolted upright. “Wait, MI6 said he's dead!” the spy said abruptly.

“That’s just a cover so we can take out the people who want him dead,” explained Danny, waving his hand as though it were nothing. “Kono is Chin’s cousin. She and Adam were in hiding together until Adam faked his death… Without her knowing it was fake. She’s off finding him.”

“Why’d he go into hiding in the first place? Why are you even helping him?” the teen demanded. “Men with that much power aren't exactly trustworthy.” His eyes were angry, showing that he was familiar with these occurrences.

“We were concerned about that too when Kono started going out with him. He actually took his father’s business and is turning it away from the Yakuza influence,” Chin said. “His brother didn't exactly like that though. He tried to take over and… murder my cousin. Adam shot him accidentally when they struggled over a gun.”

“His brother had lots of allies in the Yakuza that wanted Adam dead. We hid them as best as we could but he decided to hide off on his own. Ever since, we’ve been picking off his enemies so he could come back. We _thought_ we got all of them.”

“One more loose end,” murmured Alex. “Got it.”

“Exactly,” the lieutenant agreed.

“Then… I think I can help you tie up your loose end…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I am terribly sorry for leaving y'all hanging the last two update days. I promise to try and keep a stable update schedule.


	6. Care

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update number 6!!!! College is still in full swing but I'm good! Everything is fine!!!! ... Yep... Fine... ...
> 
> ANYWAAAAAY! I am very happy that y'all are still tuning in for my updates. I'm trying to keep them generally in the weekends at least. 
> 
> Like always, please give me feedback! What did you like? Did I get something wrong? Did I write the character well? What do you hope for next?
> 
> Warning: sick character in this chapter; a bit descriptive about how sick they are. If you get queasy reading about that stuff, be aware that it's coming up in this chapter

Alex sat in the lawn chair quietly, looking around him. The house was large enough for a number of people. He had been surprised that only one person actually lived here. The backyard was right above the beach. Waves crashed below, sparkling in the fading sunlight.

He closed his eyes as a salty breeze swirled around him. The teen hadn't felt this relaxed in a long time. Then again, when had he ever relaxed since his uncle died? He had been thrown straight into a world he hadn't expected. He barely had time for school at that point much less relaxing.

He began to stretch but stiffened. Opening his eyes, Alex rubbing his shoulder as a twinge struck. The bullet wound was acting up again. Maybe it was the strain he put on his body from the last couple of days. Or the strain on his mind… A lot had occurred in the time he's spent in Hawaii.

“There you are,” a voice came from behind him. Steve walked up, a towel around his neck. He wore a loose, white t-shirt, the neckline damp from his hair and the towel and a pair of black gym shorts. The man was barefoot in the sandy grass but didn't seem to care. “You can take a shower now. I had some clothes still here from when I was in high school. They should fit you.”

“Thanks,” murmured Alex. He rose to go inside but was stopped by the man’s hand on his good shoulder.

“By the way,” added the commander. “We were able to find you because of a friend of ours’. His name’s Kamekona. You ate at his shrimp truck.”

“Yeah, I remember,” replied the spy, quirking an eyebrow. “What of it?”

“He said you were American.”

“Ah… I’m able to speak in an American accent.”

“Why would you learn that?”

Alex sighed. “Mission in Cuba. I was sent to work with two CIA agents. Both died…”

Steve frowned. “I’m sorry,” he said gently. “I’ll let you get cleaned up. I’ll cook something. Bathroom is upstairs, third door to the right.”

The teen paused for a moment before saying “thanks” and slipping into the house.

^^^^

“You really sure we can trust this kid?” asked a skeptical Chin. He and Jerry had decided to grab something to eat on their way back from the Palace. The larger of the two men had suggested going to the shrimp truck but his asian comrade glowered at the suggestion of shrimp for the third time that week. They settled for a small café.

“He’s the Teen Spy. Of course he can be trusted,” Jerry stated while chomping on his lemon cake. He’d gotten two of the lemony, frosted slices along with a coffee.

Chin frowned, holding his own coffee in his hands. The warm brew sloshed in the cup, a cozy heat flowing through his palms. “But that doesn't mean he's trustworthy, Jer.”

The theorist set down his fork after another mouthful of the moist cake. He swallowed, wiping his stubbly beard with the back of his hand. “Listen, Chin,” Jerry began, setting his forearms on the tables and pressing his finger tips together. His face had gone from his usually goofy smile to a look of seriousness. “I’ve been studying this in my past time for three years. This kid has done a lot for the world. The fact that he's just on a small mission here is not surprising after being off the grid for basically half a year. The Teen Spy works for MI6. Worst case scenario, we can contact them to check.”

“Jerry. I… I guess we’ll have to wait and see then,” the lieutenant decided. “Are you really sure this kid is the real deal?”

The lightheartedness returned to the chubby man’s face. “Definitely.”

A smile graced Chin’s face as his childhood friend returned to the cake in front of him. As Jerry dug back into his sugary treat, the asian man turned his eyes to the dimming streets outside the large window next to their booth. Street lights were flickering on, bathing the concrete with a dull yellow light. The crowds were dispersing as a slight chill began to fall from the cool ocean breeze filtering in from the beach.

Jerry continued to think about yet another confirmed conspiracy, and Chin settled into his worries for his cousin and her lover.

^^^^

Steve was extremely frustrated with this kid. Other than occasional wise cracks, Alex was entirely silent. Now this wouldn't be so bad if it weren’t for the fact that silent meant like a black cat hiding in a dark room. The teen moved with a grace that left his steps without sound. This led to him surprising the commander more than once that evening.

The first time was after the boy finished his shower. Steve was cooking up a relatively decent dinner of frozen pizza and chips. He was digging around his cabinets, muttering under his breath about Danny “stealing food every time he comes over unannounced” and how “Grover probably ate all the dip again” when there was a sudden sneeze right next to him.

He jumped, hand hovering over his waist where his gun normally was. The man blinked in surprise as he gazed down at the dampened boy. The shirt he'd given him was probably two sizes too long, the hem reaching halfway down his thigh. The shorts seemed to fit fine though. His blond hair was darkened with water and extremely ruffled from a quick, unsuccessful towel dry.

The teen was gazing right back at him, brow raised. He was rubbing his nose with the back of his hand, snuffling slightly. His wet towel used to "dry" his hair was gripped in the other hand. “Bless you?” Steve said, the words ending in more of a question than an actual statement.

Alex blink before speaking “Thanks? Uh… I was wondering where I should put the towel. And the clothes I came in are in the bathroom still. Should I just toss them or?”

“I’ll take care of the clothes. The laundry room in the door over there. The brown one on the right,” the commander gestured. Alex nodded and limped off, favoring one of the legs that he’d hurt in his Hawaiian escapades. That’s when Steve noticed he didn't here the sound of the teen’s bare feet on the tile floor.

The second time he was startled by the boy was when he was bustling around his room. The Five-0 leader was looking to see if he had any other spare blankets for the teen downstairs. He found two in his guest bedroom but he knew there should be an extra duvet somewhere. It wasn't anywhere he looked so his last bet was his bedroom closet.

Opening the whitewash door, he spotted the creamy colored duvet on the shelf at the top of the closet. Steve grabbed the covering, tugging it from the shelf. It tumbled down into his muscular arms. It was a bit dusty it once he shook out the old thing; it could be just fine. Bundling the fabric into his arms, the man went to close the door…

And almost punched Alex in the face. The teen was right behind the door, staring up at him. The teen’s eyes were fixed on the man’s clenched fist aimed at his face. His sudden and completely silent appearance had made Steve react faster than he could comprehend. He lowered his arm now to hold the duvet tightly.

“I was going to ask where the cups were…” the teen began, looking up into Steve’s startled, green eyes. “But if you're busy…”

“No, no! They’re in the cabinet next to the one with the bowls and plates,” Steve responded. “Sorry, you just… startled me.”

The statement made the boy lips tighten into a thin line but he nodded and moved out of the room. The commander noted the silence of the footsteps again. The teenager made no sound, even though he had a limp and even when he closed the door behind him. A shiver ran down Steve’s spine; a kid shouldn't be able to be _that_ quiet.

The third time the boy startled him was around two in the morning. The commander had set up Alex on the couch downstairs. The boy had asked specifically to be put down there, explaining that he felt uncomfortable in a room with only one door and two small windows as exit points. The request was strange but many of his friends had chosen the couch over the guest bed upstairs so he'd rounded up the blankets and comforter for the boy.

It had been almost eleven when Steve bid Alex goodnight and went to scrap up some sleep before waking early the next morning to finish the investigation. It was the soft thud that woke the man three hours later. He rubbed his eyes and glanced at the blinking clock next to his bed. Red numbers flashed two-zero-eight followed by AM.

Steve warily rose from the cozy confines of his mattress and grasped his gun. The thud had come from down the hall. He shuffled along as quietly as he could, the floor boards creaking lightly under him. Making his way along, he didn't notice anything out of place. It was when he got to the bathroom that he noticed something. He kept the bathroom door wide open to make his morning routine faster by avoiding the opening and closing of doors. The door was almost fully closed.

Using his palm, he opened the door and quickly flicked on the light. Blond hair hung down as a boy panted softly, head over the rim of the porcelain toilet. His body was heaving and trembling yet barely a gasp could be heard. The head turned, tired eyes staring blankly at the commander. A small stream of spit and vomit ran from his parted lips to his chin. A dark, damp stain blotched the collar of the shirt the teen wore.

It took a moment for Steve to catch his bearings. He placed his gun on the sink and lowered himself beside Alex. “You ok, kiddo?” he asked softly, placing a hand gently on his back. He tried to ignore the obvious flinch at the contact and rubbed between the boy’s shoulder blades.

Alex relaxed into his touch, lowering his head over the bowl again. His breath was ragged, and, from the looks of it, he'd removed all the contents of his stomach into the toilet. Steve could feel the heat radiating from the boy’s body. He frowned. The kid was sick. Sleeping outside in the cold with a bullet wound was not the wisest thing in the world.

“Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back,” the commander said, retracting his hand

A small, cynical laugh bubbled from the teen. “Hurry back or I’ll be half way across the ocean,” he rasped sarcastically. He gagged not long afterwards, bile rising in his throat again.

It wasn't long until Steve came back, a bundle of different things in his arms. Kneeling down, he gingerly prodded Alex. The boy had his head laid on the rim of the toilet, eyes skewed shut. He lifted his head and was met with the commander gently wiping his face with a damp towel. The teen tried to pull away, confused. “I… I can do it myself…” he grumbled, voice cracking and laced with grogginess.

“You’re barely able to keep your eyes open, kid. Just relax,” Steve stated. The kid, giving in to his tiredness, closed his eyes as the older man wiped away the bile and vomit from his chin. Once the commander deemed his face clean, he filled a glass with water and shook two round pills of ibuprofen into his palm. He pressed the painkiller into the teen’s mouth and lifted the glass to his lips. With a sip of water and a swallow, the pills were left to do their job.

A clean shirt was set beside Alex, and Steve rose, collecting the bottle of ibuprofen and dirty towel. When he returned for a second time, the stained shirt was awkwardly placed on the sink, part of the fabric falling over the edge. The boy now bore the cleaned one, which was still a few sizes too big for his lean frame.

Alex was curled against the tub again, pressing up to the toilet for support. His eyes were squinting up at him, breath coming in soft huffs. “Why do you have blankets?” he questioned, spotting the small pile of fabric in the man’s muscular arms.

“I thought you'd rather sleep here than down on the couch. Closer to me, and closer to the bathroom,” Steve reasoned. He kneeled again, wrapping blankets around the sick boy. Quickly, so he wouldn't forget, the man flushed the toilet, water pulling the contents away and into the pipes. “If you need anything else, just call for me. My door is open.”

As he rose, a hand shot out from under the mound of blankets and clutched his wrist. “P-please…” gasped Alex. “Can… Can you stay?” Noticing the commander’s bewildered stare, the boy’s face grew redder, now from embarrassment and not just the fever. “S-sorry… I…” He retracted his grasp from the wrist he held.

Steve gave a small smile. “It’s fine, Alex. I’ll stay,” he comforted. “Just give me a moment.” He drew back up and turned on the light outside the bathroom. After flicking the light switch in the bathroom off, the Five-0 member sat down next to the mountain of blankets containing the teen. “You doing better now?”

A muffled “hm” was his response. A soft chuckle reverberated in the commander’s chest. He was brought back to memories of caring for his little sister when she got sick. This was, of course, before his father had sent them both away but the memories were still fond. Mary would react in the same way, embarrassed of the pampering her brother gave when she was under the weather.

“Wake me up if you need anything,” Steve reminded Alex. Another muffled response came from beside him. With that, the commander settled down next to the boy. He placed a hand on the dark blond locks. The touch caused the boy to jump a bit, similar to how he reacted to the time when Steve rubbed his shoulder. He relaxed into the touch as the man gingerly petted the top of his head.

The motion continued until the boy and the commander were both sound asleep.


	7. Scrambled Eggs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back???  
> I planned to update over my Christmas break but I ended up using my break as a... break?  
> Essentially I didn't do anything. College is going well and is back in full swing! I plan on updating twice a month, rather than once a week, whenever I find time.  
> Please leave feedback if you stumble across any mistakes! Thank you for your patience!

“Hey Chin, look at this.”

“What is it, Dan-… Why are they in the bathroom?”

“Don’t know but this is perfect.”

“Kid looks kind of flushed. My guess is a fever. Probably has an infection of some sort.”

“After all the crap this kid has been through? I don’t doubt it.”

“Hey, I think he’s waking up.”

The voices grew clearer as Steve awoke. When he winked the bleariness out of his eyes, he was treated with sight of Chin and Danny standing at the entrance of the bathroom. The door was swung open, morning light streaming into the confined space and shining off the tiled floor. Danny grinned wider, taking another picture with his phone. “Rise and shine,” he chimed.

“Ugh… What time is it…?” The commander groaned as he shifted his stiff muscles. Sleeping on the floor in the bathroom without blankets or a pillow was pretty stupid of him. 

“Time for you to get up,” snorted the second-in-command. 

Chin gave the snickering man a look before turning his gaze on his leader. “We got here at eight. Took a bit to find you though. Why exactly are you in here?”

Steve stretched, joints popping at the strain. “Alex got sick around two. I decided it would be better if he were closer to me and in the bathroom if it were to happen again. Ended up staying here with him.” His eyebrows furrowed at the shared look between his friends. “What?”

“Oh nothing,” drawled out Danny. 

Steve glowered, stood, and stretched once more. “Really, Danno. What?” He demanded, crossing his arms. “What the hell is so funny?”

“Hmmm… I don’t know… Chin? You wanna tell old softie?” Danny chimed, causing the commander to scoff at the name.

Chin rubbed the back of his neck, giving his boss an awkward smile. “Well… What he may be implying is that you’re acting like a dad, I guess.”

Steve sputtered. “A dad?” he asked, bewildered. “How could I act like a dad?”

Danny gestured dramatically to the dozing boy completely swaddled in blankets. “Sleeping in the bathroom after doting over a sick kid to make sure he’s alright all night? That’s dad instincts, buddy. I know; I’m a dad,” he crowed. “Take it from an expert.”

“Danno. I’ve literally known this kid for barely twenty-four hours,” reasoned Steve, glowering. “How could I possibly have fatherly instincts in that long?”

“Give it a few more days,” his second-in-command responded. “You’ll see.”  


^^^^

Alex blinked his eyes. The first thing he noticed was that he didn’t feel as sick as he had a few hours ago. Sure, his head pounded like a drum, and he was still uncomfortably warm but he didn’t feel like spewing his stomach across the floor. In fact, the sweat that coated his face and upper body was a clear sign of a broken fever. At least his body was making some progress with getting well again.

After sitting in a few moments longer, he emerged from the cocoon of blankets. The smell of salty sweat and sickness hit his nose, making him gag lightly. He definitely needed a long, cold shower. “Towels,” the tired teen mumbled, taking a step. Pain shot through the limb as the sleep had yet to leave his lower body. It was also the leg that had gotten the brunt of his fall.

Turning his calculating gaze downwards, Alex noticed the bruise that wrapped around his calf, stretching up towards the crook of his leg and brushing around his ankle. He grimaced. The shade of purple could match the color of an old grape. He was lucky not to have broken the leg; he would have been useless if that had happened. 

He could feel the strain of his body as he shuffled down the stairs. He had absolutely no idea where the towels were and preferred to avoid messing around where he didn’t belong. Seeing as though messing with things normally left him in heaps of trouble, Alex was still intrigued to find out what the commander may have hidden around his household. A man like him seemed to hold lots of secrets; the teen could tell by the way he carried himself.

In fact, the man himself was a mystery. He had only skimmed the files on the Five-0 task force, barely even glancing at pictures since the likelihood of running into them on his “short” mission was close to nil. Lieutenant Commander Steven J. McGarrett was a former Navy SEAL, the commander of Hawaii’s famous Five-0 Task Force, and has helped with investigating the Yakuza in Hawaii before. Those were the basics he took in from the file before continuing to the others. 

Making his way down the stairs, Alex found Steve, Danny, and Chin talking in the kitchen. Chin and Danny were settled at the table, glasses of water set before them. Steve, on the other hand, stood at the stove with a spatula in hand. The short blond cracked a joke apparently as their asian companion laughed and the commander scowled. Deciding he might as well get this over with, the teen slunk silently into the room. It wasn’t until he was clearly in view that they noticed him.

The duo at the table almost jumped in surprise while Steve, finally used to Alex’s strange, silent movements, just stiffened a little. “Alex, you're up. Feeling better?” asked the commander.

Alex blinked at him before stating bluntly, “not particularly but I’ve had worse.”

Danny snorted. “Kid, you look like you were hit by a truck,” he scoffed. When the kid didn’t respond with anything other than a blank stare, the man continued, saying “it was a joke. A joke.”

“I don’t think he finds it very funny,” Chin said pointedly, the corners of his mouth tweaking upwards slightly. “I bet Steve’s cooking will help you feel better though, Alex.”

“Speaking of cooking,” chimed in Steve, scraping the contents of his pan onto two plates. “Here it is. I hope you like your eggs scrambled.” He placed the porcelain dishes onto the table along with two forks. 

“Smells great,” Danny said, reaching out to snag a bit from one of the plates. He efforts were rewarded with a sharp smack from his commander. “Gak! What was that for?”

Steve glared across the table at him. “You come to my house without warning, you invade my privacy by taking pictures, and you expect me to give you food? I don’t think so. Go get your own breakfast somewhere else.”

Ignoring Danny’s whines, Alex limped to the other plate, settling himself in a chair. Fork in hand, he quietly shifted the food on his plate. He took a bite after a moment, eyes closing at the taste of a home cooked breakfast. It had been ages since he had eaten a decent meal. In training, he was stuck with military rations, and he wasn’t given extra money for food other than the basics on his mission. In fact, he’d been surviving on protein bars and water bottles for the past few days. 

The scrambled eggs were a welcome meal. It was warm, fresh, and delicious, flavored with a mix of salt, pepper, and some type of fiery spice that bit back. The flavor wasn’t overwhelming but it was nice compared to what he had been living off of before. He was so drawn in by his food that he didn't notice the others watching him intently as he shoveled more into his mouth.

“You’re smiling,” murmured Danny, a cheeky smirk stretching across his face. “You’re having another dad moment.”

The smile Steve had fell as he glowered at Danny. “I am not,” he retorted softly. “Now zip it.”

“Denial~” came a sing song response from the shorter man, before he silenced himself as the commander brandished his fork. 

Alex was just about finished with his eggs when he noticed the eyes fixed on him. He glanced up, surprised that he didn’t sense them all staring at him. “The eggs… They’re good…” he mumbled around his mouthful.

Steve beamed. “Good to hear it. Bet you’ve had better though,” he responded. 

Alex lower his fork and swallowed. “Not recently… My guardian didn’t make scrambled eggs that often; she preferred poached eggs. And then the SAS didn’t exactly provide fine cuisine,” he replied. “So these are actually the best I’ve had in a long time.”

The men looked startled. “Did you say SAS? As in the Special Air Service?” questioned Chin. “That’s a British special force in special operations and counter-terrorism. What were you doing there?”

Alex realized his blunder. He hadn’t planned on telling them about all his training. It was too late now. Sighing, he decided to explain. “Remember the military group I mentioned yesterday? Well… That was a SAS group. I just finished my second bout of training before this mission. In fact, this was my first mission since I finished training.”

“Your government is okay with a child being part of a SAS special forces unit?” snapped Danny, his face giving away his incredulousness. “That’s insane.”

“I never said the government knew,” Alex shot back. “Only a few members of my government, a handful of SAS units, MI6, and the other organizations I’ve worked for know. Give or take a few people I’ve entrusted with this information, and that’s it. Besides, if they did find out, that government wants to admit to having a child being used in life threatening missions?”

Steve clenched his jaw. “Alex, that doesn’t make this any better. You should have the choice to be what you are, a kid.”

The teen turned his head. “It’s too late for that. MI6 are now my legal guardians… I have no choice in the matter.”

“Of course you have a choice! And what about that other person you mentioned. Your other guardian?” pried Danny, anger burning through him. He would never want his little girl to go through something like Alex was facing. No child should have to.

Alex stiffened. “She’s… dead.”

After that, the teen didn’t want to talk anymore. He asked where the towels were and excused himself from the table. He ignore their worried gazes as he limped out of the room, grabbed a towel, and retreated to the bathroom. He felt like his head was going to explode as the uncomfortable thumping returned, hammering into his skull. If only he could just have some peace for once.

^^^^

“That kid needs help…” Chin finally spoke up, breaking the silence. “You guys agree with me, don’t you?”

“Of course we do, damn it,” growled Danny, clenching his fists. “Who puts a teenager into a counter-terrorist unit for training? Hell. Who puts a teenager through any of this?!” He finished with slamming one of his fists onto the table top. “There’s gotta be something we can do. No kid deserves this type of life, especially not him. Did you see his face when he told us about his guardian? And it was a guardian, not a parent! Not only has he lost his family but he also lost his caretaker, who he clearly cared about, and now he’s stuck doing MI6’s dirty work!”

“While I appreciate the concern, Danno, you're ranting is making it hard to think,” snapped Steve, rubbing his hand down his face. “You’re right. We do have to find a way to help. If only there were some way to get him out of their han-…” He rose from his seat suddenly, dumping his half eaten breakfast in the trash and placing the plate in the sink. He made a sharp turn and stalked into the connecting living room. 

“And where exactly are you going?” Danny piped up from the doorway, Chin following suit.

“I’m going to contact some people. There might be a way to get him out of their hands. It’ll probably be risky and, honestly, seem really stupid,” Steve replied, grabbing his laptop and falling back onto the couch.

“Like your driving?” joked Danny, only to be silenced by another glare. “Alright alright. Serious time. What do you have in mind?”


	8. Preparation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Midterms are on their way! Honestly, I do pretty good on tests so I'm not exactly worried. We don't have a midterm for my Composition class because we'll be halfway through writing our Research Paper, and I'm in a bunch of art classes (one of which we already turned in a midterm portfolio) that don't really have midterm assessments. The next time I update will be during my Spring Break (in two weeks).
> 
> I kinda want you guys to warn me if things are starting to get really cheesy. When I read over the stuff I have planned in future chapters, I always think it's turning out a bit... cheesy? That, and if I missed a few grammatical and spelling errors while combing through it, please tell me!

Alex stood in the shower, lukewarm water splash across his skin. He had removed the bandages from his torso before getting in. The wound had scabbed over, dark crusty blood standing out against faded bruising and pale flesh. It stung as some soapsuds seeped into cracks of the wound. He bore through it, lightly scrubbing away the sweat on his torso and grease in his hair.

His muscles were relaxed by the time he finished. Turning off the water, the dampened boy patted himself dry, gently removing the water from the wound. He slipped on a change of clothing Steve had left outside the door of the bathroom, remaining shirtless and without bandages. He limped out of the room and down the stairs, wet towels and dirty clothes in hand.

The men were, surprisingly, all still there. Chin was the first one to look up. “Alex, you’re done already?” he asked, glancing at the clock. “That was barely ten minutes.”

“You take fast showers in the SAS,” replied the teen, removing the towel that laid across his shoulders. “I’ll be right back.” He quietly moved through the room to the laundry room. Dumping his clothes in a hamper and hanging the towels over a short rack, he wandering into the kitchen to get a glass of orange juice.

He returned, sipping the bright orange contents of the cup. Danny was talking to Steve animatedly when he returned. “You’re right. That is the stupidest plan I’ve ever heard!” snapped the second-in-command.

“What’s the stupidest plan ever?” Alex asked after another sip of orange juice.

“Danny thinks that buying a dog for his daughter so she has someone else to spend time with is the stupidest plan ever,” Steve blurted out.

“Steve!” cried Danny, horror crossing his face.

“What’s wrong with a dog?” questioned the teen.

“Well for one, they are too much responsibility for a little girl.”

“Isn’t your daughter in middle school?” piped up Chin. “She’s definitely old enough to have a dog. And what about that one dog? The yellow lab?”

“That’s Rachel’s dog, not mine. Too big for my house anyways,” Danny responded flippantly. “Her responsibility now.”

“Then get a small dog,” offered Alex, setting his half empty cup on the coffee table. “Like a mini schnauzer or a corgi.”

“A _corgi_?” scoffed Danny.

“What’s wrong with a corgi?” demanded Steve, looking up from his computer screen.

“They’re just so…! It’s a disgrace to manly dogs.”

“A _disgrace_? How is it a disgrace?”

“I mean look at them! The stubby, little legs and the large head! It looks like a husky that got its legs chopped off! How can anyone find that cute?”

“A lot of people actually.”

“Maybe because he relates to the corgi so much that it makes him angry with them,” the teen next to the bickering duo reasoned.

“What do you mean relates?” grumbled Danny.

“You know, being short… Not a manly dog…”

“…”

Steve wheezed. “Oh my God! Yes! That is definitely it! We need to get you a corgi!”

Danny huffed. “I am not getting a corgi.”

“There’s one for sale in the next town,” Chin said, turning around his phone to show the screen. A small corgi was visible with a coat of white and golden brown fur. “Looks just like you.”

“Holy shit,” choked Steve. “Even the eyes are the same. Look, it’s glaring!”

“I am not getting a corgi!” Danny hollered.

“How much?”

“About five hundred but the seller is willing to cut down the price a little if necessary.”

“I am _not_ getting a corgi!”

^^^^

“You’re getting a corgi?”

“No, Catherine. I am not getting a corgi,” Danny groaned. “They’re lying. It’s not happening.” The look his co-worker gave him made him groan again. “I’m serious!”

“Well anyway,” Chin butted in, drawing everyone’s attention to the holotable and the scenes around them. “We should get back to business. We’ve missed a handful of Yakuza members still after Kono and Adam. We need to take them down before someone else gets hurt.”

“Well… I got caught down at a warehouse on a small island just across the Honolulu Harbor. It’s fairly close to a sheet metal warehouse of sorts. In fact, the warehouses are fairly close to the coast guard. I was surprised that they didn’t get caught sooner,” Alex explained, detailing his mission. “They were breaking ties with some drug dealer info broker. Apparently he was taking in too much money and not returning enough information so they dumped him.”

“They seem like a friendly bunch,” sneered Lou. “Is there anything else you can tell us, kid? Like a location.”

“It’s here.” The teen limped over to where Chin was, pulling up a map of Oahu. Tapping at the surface of the holotable and shifting windows around, he brought up a blip on the map. “It’s located on Sand Island, along the State Highway 64. There’s a section of the warehouse used for storage. It looked like one or two of them actually works for the company there while the other three worked solely for their leader. Don’t let their small numbers deceive you though. They can be pretty brutal if you sass them. Trust me, I tried.” At that, he gestured to the bruises along his cheek and jaw.

“So you’re tell us that this one portion of the Yakuza decided to set up shop right across the street from the United States Coast Guard?” asked Chin in disbelief.

“I said they were brutal, not smart.”

“How did we not know about this?”

“From what I could tell, these guys are on the edge of the Yakuza. They stir up trouble, keep local gangs in line, collect information… Lower grunt work. Their head isn’t much to look at. He was this really scrawny guy has a collection of firearms that I don't want to step in front of… Again.”

“We were doing some searching, and we came up with this man, Saki Hiroshi,” Chin said, pulling up the images he found before they had found Alex. “He’s a lower level Yakuza member. He was loyal to Michael, Adam’s brother, and collected inside information as well as doing the lower grunt work you mentioned. He’s suspected for a small handful of murder and possession charges but there was never enough evidence to convict him.”

Alex studied the image, nodding. “That’s the one. He’s the head of this small unit. He killed the dealer I told you about but sent two of the men to dispose of me and the other man you saw. The one burnt to a crisp?”

“Ah yeah. Crispy,” replied Danny. “His name was Keith Blanc. He was a business man who cut ties with the Yakuza after Kono and Adam went off the grid. They must have thought he had information on them.”

“Well you can rest assured that he didn’t. One of the things I caught in the conversation was him denying any inside details on a location of the two you mentioned. That was one of the reasons he was torched,” Alex explained.

The boy turned his attention back to the map. “By the way… I wasn’t on Sand Island when I was shot. Where did you find me the first time?”

“A few streets away from Blanc’s work. It was on Oahu rather than Sand Island and in the city. Blanc was part of a communications company. According to his credit card, he took a cab for a few miles before getting dropped off and walking to the alley you were held hostage in. The rest is well… history,” Chin detailed, marking the places on the map as he spoke.

“You were lucky someone came across you both when they did. They alley they choose was more secluded than most. They called the police, and the police called us,” Steve continued. “Now I guess we have enough information to catch them.”

“What’s the plan? Rush them or wait for them to move again?” asked Lou, crossing his arms. “It’s a small group. They shouldn’t be too hard to take out.”

“Danny, call up Duke so he can meet us on Sand Island. Chin, call Jerry and tell him to meet us here pronto. I doubt we’ll need SWAT for this but you might want to warn Coast Guard about what’s going on, Lou.” Steve began ordering while Alex stood back. The man looked like he was meant to command like this, basically born of the job.

“What about me?” Alex asked.

The commander turned, gazing down at the boy. From his few, he could see the bruises along his face and arms. There was a slight flush across his cheeks as the fever faded away yet it was still ever present. The dark patch of skin on his leg was lightening but still a nasty shade of green and purple. His form was slightly hunched as he steadied himself against the holotable, favoring his injured leg. The kid looked battered, bruised, sick, and yet there was a fire burning in his brown eyes.

But that fire was’t enough to convince Steve to let the boy join them. “You’ll be here.”

Alex blinked in surprise. “Stay here? What do you mean?”

“Kid, you literally threw up about six or seven hours ago and got out of the hospital in barely twenty four. You are not coming with us.”

“You let me come here!”

“That’s because I didn’t want to leave you at my house alone, and we had to get here fast enough to get going on this case.”

“I am an asset!”

“You are a child.”

Alex flinched at how sharply and familiar the head of Five-0 sounded. It stung how similar Commander McGarrett sounded like his uncle. Whenever they argued, his uncle would hit a point where he had no more patience. His tone would become sharp and commanding, condemning the young boy to his room until he stopped with his attitude. Later, the older Rider would come to the boy’s room, finding him curled up on his bed. There would be an awkward period of apologize, and they would talk calmly and resolve their differences. The arguments weren’t frequent but they left a lasting impression.

Steve noticed the change in demeanor almost instantaneously. Alex dropped his defiant gaze, turning his eyes to the ground. Head tilted down and away, he clutched the hem of his shirt with one and and the holotable with the other. He seemed to become more like a regretful child scolded for being caught with a hand in the cookie jar than a spy demanding a place in a raid.

The man felt a pang and stepped forwards, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “We’ll keep you on the radio the whole time. You can help lead us through to where you found them, ok?” Steve offered.

A look of contemplation flashed across the teen’s face. “Alright,” was all that left his mouth before their attention was drawn to the door where the large mass of Jerry Ortega stood, or rather wilted, panting.

“I… I got here… As fast… As I could…” the heavyset man wheezed.

“How far away does he live?” Alex questioned.

“Far enough to break every traffic law in Oahu to get here in the time he did,” quipped Steve, running a hand down his face.

“So… Why…” Jerry took a deep breath. “Why do you need me?”

Steve jerked a thumb at Alex. “Babysit the spy. We need to go catch the Yakuza unit that shot him,” he answered.

“Gotcha!” Jerry said, face alight with excitement.

“Whoa whoa whoa… I understand being on the radio with you guy from here but a babysitter? What’s with that?” prompted Alex. His defiant look was back.

Steve sighed. “You seem like the kid that trouble follows. You’re also just a teenager who just happens to be a foreign spy that will be in a government building for a few hours all alone. Jerry is going to watch you until we get back.”

“I could take this guy out easily!”

“Alex.”

“Fine. Better than Mr. Grin I guess.”

“Mr. Grin?”

“Don’t ask.”

Shaking his head, Steve rounded up the other members of the Hawaii Five-0 Task Force. Danny had finished calling Duke, telling him to gather officers to get them on Sand Island. Lou had warned the Coast Guard to wait until they arrived to do anything against the Yakuza hiding out near them. Catherine handed him his bullet proof vest, already strapped into her’s. “Alright. Let’s go.”


	9. Infiltration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spring Break! Time for me to relax and... What was that? No relaxing? AHHHHHHHHHHH.
> 
> Yep, Silver doesn't get to rest. I have three projects I'm working on (two research papers and one graphic design project) as well as applying for a job and visiting an old friend! So I'm busy... But never fear, and update is here!! 
> 
> Ah... I wish I was young again...
> 
> As always, if you find an error or grammatical mistake, send it my way and I'll review it! I don't have a Beta reader; I revise my chapters myself before posting. I hope you like it!!
> 
> I have a surprise at the end of the chapter so check the bottom notes!

“Did you actually take down Scorpia?”

Alex groaned. If he had a gun on him, he’d have shot himself in the head long ago. “Jerry. That is still classified information. I cannot tell you,” the teen explained for the fourth time since the task force had left.

“You can tell me!” Jerry prodded.

“And risk the internet knowing and then Blunt wringing my neck? No thank you. As much as I hate the bugger, he’s kind of my guardian,” grumbled Alex.

The consultant looked puzzled. “Wait, what about your parents? Do they know what you do?” he asked. “Do they even know you’re in Hawaii?”

Alex stiffened and tilted his head down at the holotable. “I’m calling McGarrett,” he stated softly.

“But what about-…”

“I said I’m calling McGarrett.” This time his voice was commanding and cold.

Jerry flinched a bit, surprised by the sharpness of the boy’s voice. He rubbed the back of his neck as he realized he had definitely crossed the line. “Sorry… Yeah… You should do that.”

Alex kept quiet, avoiding replying in a harsh way again. He tapped away at the holotable, swiping through contacts and connecting to the radio frequency. “Hey, Steve. I got us connected with the holotable,” he greeted.

“You’re getting pretty good at working with that tech,” came a slightly muffled Steve. “Were almost about to Raid the place. I’ll give you visual when we get in the warehouses.”

“Sounds fine.”

“Right, the live feed will be coming soon.”

There was a file that appeared within a few moments. Alex tapped on it and swiped upwards. One of the television screens filled with a live feed from, judging by the height, someone’s bulletproof vest. The image was shaky as the wearer moved. Narrowing his eyes, the teen noticed that the person filming had the same long sleeved blue shirt as Danny had on this morning. There was a slide and click sound as the man, Danny, prepared his firearm.

Alex and Jerry watched as HPD and the Five-0 Task Force kicked in a door and slipped into the warehouse. Danny and Catherine slipped off to one side as everyone split up. The two stalked through a few shipping containers. It was then that Alex noticed a familiar marker.

“Williams, Rollins,” he spoke up. “The blue container, take a left. You should be able to find a space surrounded by crates and shipping containers. That’s where they were last time I saw them. Be careful. They keep their weapons on them.”

“Right, kid,” came the garbled voice of Danny. “Thanks for the heads up.”

The two made their way around the corner, guns ready. The open area became visible a few moments later. Four people were there; two in worker uniforms and two in civilian clothing. “Got eyes on the perps,” Catherine said quietly over the radio.

“We’ve got a visual from the other side,” came a voice Alex didn’t know.

“Alright, Duke.”

“How many are there?”

“Only four, Steve.”

“Is one of them Saki Hiroshi?”

“I can’t tell.”

“We’ll just have to risk it.”

There must have been a signal Alex missed because audio turned to static as they moved in. The camera was jostled, and the view he had was obscured. Shots rang out, and everything went to hell. There were shouts as one of the men was caught and others were shot down as they drew weapons and fired.

The camera became stable when Danny stopped moving. The feed was slightly lopsided but Alex could make out three bodies, one in the worker uniform and the other two in the civilian clothing. A HPD member was down, clutching his shoulder. Luckily, no one else looked hurt.

“Looks like none of them are Saki Hiroshi. We’ll have to interrogate the one we caught to find out where he is,” Steve said, voice crackling with the light static of the radio. “Let’s move out.”

And that’s when Alex saw it; the man running out of view. He was tall and lean and running like mad. “There he is!” yelled Alex. “Commander, Saki Hiroshi is running!”

“You saw him? Where?” asked Jerry, squinting at the screen.

Alex tapped away at the touch screen, rewinding the feed and froze it. “There!” He zoomed in on the image and upped the picture quality. The man was as he thought, tall, lean, and asian with short black hair. He wore a gray button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a visibletattoo on his forearm, and khaki shorts. “That is Saki Hiroshi. See that tattoo that goes up his arm. It’s a snake. If you check the others, they should have similar tattoos.”

“What, is it a friendship marker?” Jerry asks, almost jokingly.

“Basically,” Alex shot back. “McGarrett, Hiroshi is running.”

There was a pause before Steve replied. “He got away.”

“What?”

“He hijacked a car, blue sedan. We lost him. We’ll be setting up road blocks until-…”

“Alex, where are you going?” Jerry asked as the younger spun round and started half jogging half limping through the room.

“I know where he could be going!” the teen hollered back.

“But I can’t let you go,” the heavyset man replied frantically. “Alex, get back here!”

“You can’t stop me and you know it, Jerry!” Alex exited the room, leaving a panicked consultant at the holotable.

“What’s going on, Jerry?” Steve demanded.

Jerry started wringing his wrists. “U-uh. Alex… Left?”

“He what?”

“He's going after Hiroshi?”

“You let him leave?!”

“He didn’t give me a choice, Steve!” Jerry whined. “How do I stop a spy who can take down an entire ring of assassins?”

There was a drawn out sigh. “Did he say where he was going at least?”

“No, just that he knew where Hiroshi could be going.”

“How the hell is he going to even get there?”

^^^^

“How the hell am I going to get there?” muttered Alex, glaring at his leg. He couldn’t run of course and definitely couldn’t bike there. He didn’t have a license or a permit on him to drive so that left one option he supposed. He’d have to flag down a cab.

The teen limped out to the sidewalk and down to the street. It took a few moment to finally flag down a taxi cab. He opened the door and slid inside. “Pier 38, Honolulu Harbor Fishery Management Area as fast as you can,” he stated, using his American accent.

“You ok, kiddo?” asked the driver. He was an older Hawaiian man, dark beard and short hair flecked with silvery gray. His tanned skin was wrinkled around his eyes and forehead. He bore thick glasses that half hid old, gray eyes. He was dressed like most of the people on the island, Hawaiian shirt and shorts.

“I’m fine. Please drive. I need to get there,” Alex replied. “I’m uh… Late.” He proceeded to act like an awkward teen, rubbing the back of his neck. He leaned forward with a weak smile of sorts. “I was suppose to meet someone but I wrecked my bike and obviously can’t ride it.” He gestured towards his bruised leg.

“That musta’ been a nasty fall, kiddo,” agreed the older man. “I’ll get cha’ there no problem.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Eh eh eh. No problem! Whatcha name, son?”

“Alex, sir.”

“Ya gotcha some manner, Alex. Welcome to Mahdi Bamako’s taxi; call me Mah.”

“Thank you, Mah.”

“Let’s gotcha where ya need ta go.”

The old man shifted the vehicle into gear and began driving. “So… You’re a haole. Whatcha doing alone? You visitin’ or somethin’?” the old man asked. “Nev’ah seen ya ‘round here before.”

“I’m visiting my cousins. They moved here a while ago. I’m taking a break from school for a bit. I’ll be going to college soon and was thinking about going out here. It’s very nice,” Alex said. Just as he hated stealing, he hated lying to unsuspecting civilians. At this point though, he had no choice.

The man nodded, taking a sharp turn to the left. “I hear ya. It’s a short drive to the pier by the way. We’ll be there soon.”

“Thank you,” the teen breathed, relieved. With any luck, he would get there sooner than Hiroshi would. “I really appreciate it.”

“I’m a cab driva’. It’s what I do,” responded Mahdi. “Who ya meetin’?”

“My cousin’s friend. I might try doing some work there eventually. I’m interested in shipping.”

“Really now… Hope it turns out well for ya, kiddo.”

“Thanks. I hope it turns out well too.”

^^^^

Mahdi hadn’t been wrong. It had taken roughly eight minutes to get there. That being said, Alex was fairly certain the man hadn’t abided by the speed limit and might have flew through two red lights. When they pulled up to the gates, he realized he had no cash to pay the man.

“It’s alright, kiddo,” said Mahdi. “Ya gave meh ah nice conversation. Besides, not that far of a trip. Good luck, Alex.”

Alex waved and walked past a fishing and supply store. Glancing back, he saw Mahdi had gotten a new passenger and was driving off. He began limping onto the docks until he found what he was looking for. It was a smaller boat, a motor cruiser to be exact, with a white hull and royal blue writing. The name was Blue Lady, and it looked expensive. This was Saki Hiroshi’s pride and joy; it was mentioned in the file for the case.

Hiroshi never would use his boat for Yakuza related occurrences unless absolutely necessary. In fact, the man spent more money on the boat than he spent time in it. Personally, Alex didn’t see the point and doubted he ever would. When he snuck on board, it was evident that his file wasn’t wrong.

The Blue Lady was far too clean. The deck was barely worn and completely swept clear. The chairs at the helm, located within the cabin, were a soft white leather. A mini fridge could be found there as well. The cabins windows were large and crystal clear without a smudge or finger print.

He made his way up to the bow, sliding behind some equipment. Alex didn’t have to wait long before the boat rocked from new weight. There was a thud, footsteps, and the engine came to life. The boat dipped and turned. He could hear the cursing from the helm as Hiroshi began steering the cruiser away from the docks.

It was now or never he supposed as he rose to a crouching position. He shuffled across the deck, avoiding being seen from the cabin windows. The spy slid along the wall, careful to not hit anything around him. The natural creaking of the boat and hum of the motor hid any sounds he might make as he moved.

He crept until he spotted the man. Yes, that was indeed Saki Hiroshi. The man’s sharp cheek bones and thin lips added to the thinness of his figure. One could describe him as branch-like or pencil-ish. In general, the man was just spindly and probably would be an easy take down if it weren't for the assault rifle strapped to his back.

The gun was a metallic black, glinting as the noon sunlight shone through the glass. Alex only knew the names of a handful of these guns; he was more tune to sniper rifles or handguns. The weapon was one he knew from his time in Russia, an AK-9. They were designed in the early 2000s, the company trying to surpass its competitors. AK-9 was a Russian 9x39 millimeter assault rifle used in Syria, Russia, and Mongolia. How this creep got his hands on one was a mystery.

Alex decided he wasn’t going to sit around to find out. He didn’t have a weapon of his own. The closest thing to him was a box of supplies. Sliding over, he peered inside. It was , unsurprisingly, cleaning supplies. Luckily, one of the items included an old pipe, possibly one the man had changed out recently. He gently lifted the pipe out and weighed it in his hands.

The pipe was small in diameter but almost as long as his arm. There was rusting pipe cap at one end that curved slightly. He took a test swing and grinned. This would work. If he gave a quick blow, maybe he could get out of this one unscathed for once.

^^^^

“Do you have any idea where he could have gone?” demanded Steve, running a hand down the side of his face. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. Now that they were back at the castle and found out that Alex was for sure gone, the stress seemed to be building.

“Steve, you need to chill,” Chin said from the holotable. “Jerry has made it clear that he doesn’t know.”

“I’m really sorry,” mumbled Jerry. “I didn’t know how to stop him.”

Steve just sighed. “Right. Sorry. It’s just… Alex is hurt, and he could be going after someone dangerous. They found a ton of weapons at that warehouse, some include assault rifles.”

The consultant frowned. “That isn’t good.”

“Exactly why we need to get the kid back.”

“Man… You really are sounding like a terrified dad right now,” Danny chimes in from across the room.

“I do not sound like a terrified dad. Chin, can you get the location of that sedan?” the commander blurted angrily. “There were security cameras. One had to get the license plate.”

“Already on it… Dad.” the lieutenant answered with a cheeky grin.

Steve groaned. “Just admit it,” prodded Danny. “I mean, aren't you planning on-…”

“Not another word, Danno,” the other growled, glowering. “Talk about that later, find dangerous Yakuza man now.”

“Got him,” piped up Chin. “I was able to locate multiple cameras along the route he took. He's at Pier 38.” He brought up a clip of the Hiroshi running from the sedan and onto the docks. The view switched to a figure clambering onto a small motor cruiser. As the boat started, a smaller figure suddenly moved into view before vanishing.

“Wait, go back,” Steve ordered. “Now freeze and zoom in.”

The image zoomed in, and the pixels sharpened. The team gapped. “Alex?” gasped Catherine. “No way… He’s _on_ the boat?”

“Yeah, the boat that’s leaving!” Lou said. “How are we gonna get ‘im now?”

“We’ll find a way,” snapped Steve. “We’ll find a damn way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we're at the stereotypical Alex Rider stuff where Alex decides to do things his way and probably gets himself hurt... Again. Someone save this boy.
> 
> Well, I said I had a surprise and... I'll be updating again later this week! I have another chapter that I have to revise some more but I should have it up by this weekend before I head back to my university. So keep a look out for a spontaneous update!!


	10. Salt Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second update I promise! I made sure to go through it at least one more time and now I'm updating it. What will I do after this? Write my research paper. After that? Six hour long D&D session. After that? ...Perish??
> 
> As always, tell me if you find any grammatical or spelling mistakes! I revise these chapters myself. 
> 
> I'm glad you all seem to enjoy my story. I love reading comments; they always brighten up my day so much.

_‘Well… This could have turned out better…’_ Alex thought.

When Alex had attacked, he wasn't aware of the mirror. It was similar to a car’s rearview mirror. Saki Hiroshi had rounded on him, pulling the gun from his back. Alex had struck with as much force as possible, hitting the gun.

In retaliation, the man had smacked the pipe away and dove for the gun. The teen kicked him in the ribs, sending them both sliding. The wheel turned with the current, sending the two sideways. The gun and pipe clanged against each other and hit the far wall.

Hiroshi had wasted no time in scrambling to his feet and lunging at the teen. Alex was pinned to the ground, hands on his throat. He gagged as pressure was applied. He clawed at the man’s grip but his attempts were weak against the lean fingers digging into his windpipe. And as the boat jolted again, he remained pressed into the paneled floor. The pipe clanged across the room, lodging into the pedals under the wheel. The engine revved, and the boat flew forwards. The firearm flew past his face, slamming into the wall.

Then the gun went off. It didn’t seem possible but it hit the wall of the cabin in such a way that it actually discharged. Apparently, Hiroshi was a trigger happy person with a lack of care for putting the safety on his guns. The bangs were deafening as the firearm went off, shooting a short round of bullets through the small compartment.

Alex’s unfortunate luck of the devil was starting to show. They passed millimeters by his face, slamming full force into his attacker. The man choked and screamed and fell in a heap over top the boy, splattering blood across his face. As the boat did another jerky motion, the gun was shifted and stopped its short hail of bullets.

The teen shoved the limp body off of him, and he stumbled up to the wheel. Alex glanced out the window and, to his horror, saw that the small cruiser had shifted course. Rather than going out to sea, it was heading straight for the docks. “Shit…” muttered the spy, running a hand down his face. Feeling something damp slide with his palm, he looked down to see streaks of red. “And I’m covered in blood… Great.”

He ducked down to check the foot controls. The pipe was wedged nicely over top the throttle petal, sending the small yacht towards land at a terrifying pace. He checked around the controls. Most of them had been in the line of fire and were shot up. The key was broken off so that a person couldn’t turn off the engine.

God, he wanted to scream. His good for nothing luck was really getting on his nerves. Maybe it was because he’d been away from life threatening missions for so many months. Why couldn’t life just be easy for him, just this once? Of course life didn’t listen to him as the HPD patrol cars and helicopters came into view.

People were running and pointing at the on coming boat. At this point, Alex couldn’t make any turns to avoid the other boats around him; they had all spread out to avoid the speeding vehicle. This left two options: one he didn’t prefer and one he really didn’t prefer. Playing them out in his head, he went with the former.

He could of chosen to just run into the dock and let the land stop the crazed vessel. But, of course, that left room for collateral damage. There were people on the dock along with on land. With the speed he was going, what was the likelihood of actually stopping before crashing into one of the buildings nearby? That was far too risky.

So he settled for the option he merely didn’t prefer. The only damage it would cause would be to the boat and, most likely, himself. Taking a breath, he slammed his foot on the partially exposed break pedal. He could hear the conflict in the engine, metal screeching against metal. Alex grabbed hold of the wheel as the boat bounced and jolted. In one sharp movement, he gripped the wheel and turned it. The motion caused the boat to jump violently and, due to the overwhelming speed, start to roll.

Alex tried to hold on but was easily tossed from his position, slamming into the wall. Water poured into the cabin, splashing him and dragging him about. There was a harsh crash as the boat finally hit the dock and fell backing the water, capsized. Glass shattered on impact, and the metal structure twisted and tore. The ocean started gushing into the room.

The cold water shocked the teen, making him jolt into action. In a sudden motion, he was plunged under, bubbles bursting from his nose and mouth. He thrashed up, sputtering when he broke the surface. There was a gap between the water and the floor, or, in this case, the ceiling. It looked to be roughy five feet high but it was shrinking as the cruiser continued sinking. He didn’t have much time.

He slowed his breath, trying to relax. He had to think. If he panicked, he’d use all the air he had. If he used all the air he had, his death would come faster. His best bet was holding his breath and swimming out a broken window but that’s where it got tricky. How far down was the boat? Was the water shallow? What about shards of glass? Was there an open window big enough to let him swim through? Could his breath be held long enough to reach the surface?

Alex thought and decided that if he was going to die, he might as well attempt to escape. He took two long breaths before inhaling deeply and diving into the water. His eyes stung as salt water blurred his vision. The hazy outlines of a broken window appeared as he swam forwards. Picking one he pushed against the incoming current. The waters tried to drag him back but he shoved on until he found a wall.

He felt carefully along the cold metal. He was weary where he put his hands. If any glass or sharp metal sliced his palm or fingers, he’d have an even harder time getting to the surface. It was a few painfully long seconds before he finally found an exit. He blinked against the salty sting at the gaping hole of the window was right before him. He had found it, and his already tired lungs were forcing him to hurry his escape.

But as he swam through, he realized his first mistake; his choice of windows was not wise. Pain erupted from his left thigh as a jagged piece of glass cut through his exposed flesh. He clenched his teeth, a short stream of bubbles floated from between his lips. Salty water stabbed at his wound. He had to get out of there now. He continued swimming, getting through the rest of the window cleanly.

His lungs had begun burning as he used up more oxygen. His injuries, both past and newly inflicted, were slowing him down. Alex could see the light filtering down and yet didn’t feel as though he was going anywhere. In fact, it almost seemed like he was being drawn further away! The oceans natural currents were rushing against him and towards the open ocean. How far would he be from shore then?

He squeezed his eyes shut, kicking as hard as he could. He reached towards the surface, feeling for air. He had to breathe! He had to make it! He couldn’t die on his first mission back! Jack couldn’t die for nothing. He couldn't let Sabina’s tears go to waste! She and her family had been forced to give him up and leave England. He had seen her cry for him far too many times to die because of MI6’s idiocy and of Alan Blunt’s cruel manipulations.

And yet he wasn’t going to make it. His body was giving out; his legs failing him. His body screamed at him to breathe, even if he was completely submerged. So he opened his mouth, and water flowed into his throat. His body heaved and jerked. He thrashed about as his lungs filled with seawater.

He had heard the drowning was one of the most painful ways to die. You’re suffocating in the water. There are five stages of drowning. There is the surprise that last only a few moments before the next stage sets in. Then comes the respiratory arrest. This lasts roughly a minute as a person holds their breath and tries to find air. When no air is found, there is the stage of deep respiration. The person can no longer hold their breath and either inhales water and panics or they pass out. Respiratory arrest’s second stage begins with convulsions and functions failing. They loose consciousness and termination damage risk rises as well as possible fatality.

When in saltwater, these stages are twice as lethal.

Alex felt himself slipping away. His lungs were pained, and his vision blackening. He began closing his eyes. _‘I guess… This is it…’_ he thought. And as he drifted away, he felt hands grasp and pull at him. But he was too far gone to react. He simply fell back into unconsciousness.

^^^^

Steve’s stomach dropped as he watched the boat come to a stop. He and the others had arrived in time to see the boat lurching about in the water. Chin had been the first to notice that there were two persons aboard. One was Hiroshi, and the other was unknown. It was Steve who realized who the second person was.

People on the docks panicked as gunshots were heard. The vessel jolted and turned towards them. Steve watched in horror as Alex continued plowing through the water. Civilians ran away from the section the boat was aiming for, and other boats steered clear of its path. And at the last moment, the cruiser made an abrupt turn. It was sharp enough to send it rolling.

The engine roared and grinder as it went, tumbling through the water. It hit the wood with a defining crash, windows shattering and metal twisting. The task force, having moved with the citizens to avoid the oncoming vessel, fell from the shocking impact. The small yacht fell back into the water, the wet hull out of the water. And as water started to gush in the ripped sections of boat, it started to sink. The hull began to dip back into the ocean.

“No!” yelled Steve, stripping off his vest and holsters. He flung them carelessly aside and ran for the water.

“Steve!” cried Catherine. “What are you doing?”

“He’s on the boat!”

“What!?”

“Alex! He was on the boat! I have to help him!”

Before the others could stop him, he dove into the ocean. It was cold against his skin as he swam. Steve opened his eyes, blinking to stop the stinging from the salt. He could see the ship still sinking. The section he was on was crushed in, making it impossible to enter or exit that side. He made his way back to the surface, inhaling fresh air.

The others called to him. “Steve!” yelled Danny. “How do you know he’s even survived that. crash?”

“I just do!” he yelled back, sputtering slightly as seawater streamed down from his face into his mouth. “Call an ambulance!”

“He definitely is tapping into his parental instincts…” stated Danny, pulling out his phone and dialing for an ambulance. Even with the joking statement, his tone was underlined with heavy worry.

Steve missed the comment as he dove back into the water, making his way around the boat. It had sunk a few yards more, nearing the shadowed sand below. That’s when he saw the boy. Alex had made in out of the boat but the man could see him slowing, and red pluming around his legs.

The man moved through the water with speed he didn’t remember having until that moment. The boy was a few meters from the surface when he started convulsing. It was obvious that he had run out of air, and his body was fighting him to breathe. Steve had to get to Alex before he drowned. The kid didn’t deserve to die drowning.

Alex’s convulsions slowed, a few bubbles floating from his gapping mouth. Steve pushed forwards and grabbed the teen. The boy’s eyelids fluttered and closed. _‘Shit,’_ the commander thought frantically, swimming upwards with the boy in his arms. He needed to get the boy out of the water now.

His head broke the surface a few seconds later. He lifted Alex up next, keeping the boy from getting more liquid in his mouth as he moved towards the shore. The others were at the edge of the dock waiting. Danny, hanging halfway over the dock, held out his arms to grab to boy. Steve carefully passed on his cargo to his second-in-command.

He clambered onto the wood next, catching his breath. Catherine had already acted, beginning the process of CPR. Ambulance sirens could be heard in the distance. The commander moved to kneel next to the boy and his resuscitator. “He’s not breathing,” stated Catherine, continuing the chest compressions.

“Come on, kid,” the man murmured. “Breathe.”

As if the boy could hear him, he violently thrashed and water splashed from his lips. Alex's gagged and coughed, letting the ocean he consumed stream from the corners of his mouth. He clawed at the hands on his chest, wheezing. His normally serious, brown eyes were wide and wild in panic. His gasps calmed as his lungs filled with air. His breaths were raspy and painful.

He looked around with bleary eyes. “S-steve?” he mumbled.

“Right here buddy,” Steve responded.

“Sorry I broke the boat.”

Steve blinked. “The boat…?”

“Yeah…”

“You think I care about a boat?”

“… I guess not?”

“We’re taking you to the hospital…”


	11. Recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the lack of updates these past two weeks. I had my birthday and then I was bogged down with two research papers, a reading experience essay, a few art projects, and our Gaming Club's main DnD campaign finale (I helped destroy a floating castle). I got an extra day off due to Easter so I took time today to rest and edit the chapter for uploading it.
> 
> I have another campaign next weekend but I should be able to upload a second time before the month ends. 
> 
> I also want to thank two people. I know they don't have accounts on here but they never fail to show their support and dedication, which means a lot. I feel so much joy every time I see their comments. So thank you to Fay and Alicori. I hope I can continue to meet your expectations.
> 
> As always, hit me up with any feedback (grammar, spelling, inconsistencies, etc.)

Alex woke up with a start. He glanced around and proceeded to let out a long groan. He knew those white washed walls and that burning antiseptic smell anywhere. He was back at the hospital for the second time in under three days. “Ha… New record.”

“That’s not something to be proud of, kid,” a voice came from beside him. Danny, holding a cellphone, appeared in his line of vision as he turned his head weakly. His body did not enjoy the movements, and another soft groan left his dry lips. “You also sound terrible.”

“Oh, thanks,” he rasped, voice scratchy and raw. “I didn’t notice.”

The man snorted and rolled his eyes. “Whatever, kid. Honestly though, you’re more insane than Steve…” He paused for a moment. “No… No, no, no. He’s still worse.”

This made Alex grin. Steve did seem a bit… crazy.

“He’s on his way up now,” Danny added. “He went to get something from the vending machines. I just texted him that you were going to wake up. You’ve been out for a while.”

Before Alex could respond, the door flung open. Steve stood in the doorway, panting. His hair was slightly disheveled as were his clothes. In fact, he looked as though he hadn’t changed clothing at all. Clutched in his hand was a plastic-wrapped sandwich, a fairly smashed one if someone was to look closely. The occupants of the room blinked at him in silence.

“Couldn’t you, I dunno, knock like any normal person?” the blond next to Alex asked in a exasperated tone. “You know, rather than almost destroying hospital property.”

Steve rolled his eyes and ignored the man. “Alex, you feeling ok?” he prodded.

“Could be better,” the teen rasped honestly. Coughs suddenly bubbled out of his throat, making him keel over with a hand clutched over his mouth. His lungs burned at the heaving breaths he gasped in between hacks. A steady palm was pressed against his back in the valley between his shoulder blades but Alex ignored it; he was more concerned about the lung he was coughing up.

When the fit had finished, the weak boy blinked open his eyes and drew his hand from his parted lips as he inhaled cold air. A familiar taste was settled on the back of his tongue, coppery and foul. The warm stickiness clinging to his palm also confirmed his suspicions as he glanced down at his open hand. A light crimson smudge had slathered itself near the bases of his fingers.

Steve, hand still on the younger boy’s back, turned his eyes from his pale face to hissplayed hand. His jaw clenched and unclenched before he let out a long sigh. “It’s because of the sea water,” the commander tried to comfort. “The salt water tore up your lungs a bit. You’ll need to really take it easy for a while, kid.”

“As in no more joy rides in boats,” added Danny, a weak smile plastered on his face.

“If that was a joy ride, I’d hate to be on a horrible one.”

“We’re serious, Alex. You can’t leave the hospital for at least a week and even then that’s stretching it. You have a deep cut on your leg that had to be stitched up, drowned, and all the wounds from earlier. You don’t have to go around like a self-sacrificing hero. You’re just a kid. It’s a miracle you aren't dead,” Steve snapped.

A frown settled on Alex’s chapped lips. “One of these days…” he muttered.

“What?”

“I’ll actually die one of these days; I already know all that. If you’re trying to guilt trip me into being more careful or getting me out of the agency, it’s too late. Everyone I cared for is gone, either dead or off the grid. I don’t even own my own person; I’m literally owned by a damn agency. I’ve almost died on every one of my missions. Hell, I almost got dissected and tortured by a bloody lunatic. Drowning is a _blessing_ compared to that,” Alex spat out, voice low and gravelly.

“So don’t give me shit about not caring for _my_ life. My _job_ is the only thing I have left. The real world clearly doesn’t give a damn about a kid like me at this point. When I get back to England, I’ll be right back in the cycle again. I’ll never have existed in Hawaii.” He finished his rant, breathing in heavy breaths.

The two men hovering over him were silent, watching the tired boy with wide eyes. “Alex…” whispered Danny, eyes shining sadly. “What makes you think you could never get out of the system.”

The teen smiled bitterly, head turning away. “I’ve tried. God, I tried. They found a loophole and got me back. They don’t care about me as long as I complete my missions. I’m a tool, a secret weapon if you want. I don’t have feelings so why would I ever want to get out?”

“That’s not right, and you know it,” responded Steve.

“Maybe, maybe not,” Alex shot back simply. “I… I want to sleep. Can we talk later…?”

The two looked at each other weakly before nodding. Alex had begun to look more drawnthrough out their arguments and now looked like a soft wind could blow him over. They couldn’t actually deny the kid rest. “Alright, Alex. But our conversation isn’t over,” said Steve.

Alex expected this and simply turned over, his back to them. He listened as the adults left and sighed. He had gone off the edge there. His emotions had been fuddled too much on this mission. The team was a major reason for this. Their interactions were something he hadn’t experienced in a while, and he hadn’t realized how much he longed for it.

They were like a family, connected and personal. They protect each other and work well as a unit. They had easily adjusted to Alex once they had decided he was at least somewhat trustworthy; even his last SAS Unit wasn’t that accepting so fast. Their worry for him had been surprising and touched him in a way he wasn’t expecting.

He closed his eyes. He shouldn’t be getting attached anyways; It wasn’t like he could stay. By next week, Blunt would be demanding his precious asset back, claiming he had enough time to recuperate from his injuries. A new mission would be presented, he would be prepped, and he would be sent on another trip.

Another wheezing set of coughs erupted from his parted lips. Alex clutched the thin material of his hospital gown, knuckles going white. His chest and torso throbbed. Apparently the meds were wearing off or else he wouldn’t be feeling this bad. Clenching his eyes shut harder, he steadied his breathing until he could relax a bit. Maybe sleep would help, even just a little.

^^^^

The next time he opened his eyes, his body was aching, and his stomach was growling. A Hawaiian nurse was fiddling with his IV, inserting a needle and forcing a clear liquid into the thin tube system. Her dark, frizzy hair, tied up in a bun, bounced as she bobbed her head, humming a tune he had heard once in a while blaring from shops and open car windows when he had first arrive in Oahu. She straightened and turned.

The young woman jumped in surprise when her bright eyes met cold ones. “Oh!” she finally said. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” She set down the needle and a small bottle with a label printed in bold on it onto a small stand next to her. “I was just re-administering your medicine.” Her thin fingers tucked a few stray strands of hair behind her ear.

“I was bound to wake up eventually,” Alex responded. His voice was still raspy but it had grown stronger and a little clearer.

The woman, Nurse Malie Akiona, smiled. “Are you feeling better?” she prodded, grabbing scissors. “I need to change your bandages.”

Alex pulled down the hospital blankets, revealing dark bruising along his legs and a layer of bloodied gauze. She carefully snipped through the dirty material, peeling it away to reveal inflamed skin and thick black threads weaving his flesh together. The nurse gently cleaned away the fresh blood from the injury and rewrapped his leg.

She gave him a sad smile. “I need to check your torso too. The… Other wound,” she explained, gesturing to his gown. He awkwardly nodded and lifted the garment up. He, of course, was clad in a pair of underwear but that was all that shielded him from the nurse’s eyes and careful hands. As she removed the bloodied gauze, Alex let his mind wander, blocking out the nurse as she began to babble on about something in the news.

How soon would the agency come to snatch him back? MI6 wasn’t the most patient group. As time had gone on, breaks between missions were becoming shorter and shorter. The fact that they had clawed him away from a new life of peace and shoved him into SAS training for eight months was an obvious example of their clingy attitude towards him.

“All done!” chirped the nurse. “It’s healing nicely. How’d you get a wound like that anyway?”

Alex blinked. She didn’t know what a bullet wound looked like? _‘Probably not,’_ he supposed. _‘Even if she thought she knew, she wouldn’t expect to see it on a kid.’_ The teen opened his mouth to respond with a decent excuse. “ Got shot by the Yakuza.” Dammit.

The nurse was silent. A nervous laugh fluttered out of her as she leaned back. “A-ah. That’s a joke… Right?” she asked more than stated. When she saw the serious look on his face, she paled considerably. “R-right. I’m uh… Finished. I’ll be back later…”

For someone with such short legs, Alex was impressed by how fast she got out of the room. He shifted so that his hospital gown covered his battered body once more. In a swift motion, the covers were back over him. Maybe he should sleep a bit more. He’d need some sleep, especially if Steve or Danny came by once more to argue about his place in MI6.

He exhaled a deep breath. He’d had an interesting experience with the Five-0 Task Force, that he was sure of. Everything had gone to hell within two days of stepping on the island. If it hadn't been for the team, the rest of this week would have been far worse. Had it been a whole week? Had it been longer? Danny had said he was “out for a while” earlier.

Deciding that those were enough unanswered questions for the moment, Alex rolled over and settled in a comfortable position. If MI6 were coming for him sooner than later, he might as well get some actual sleep before being thrown back into the game. At this point, he surely deserved some shut eye that didn’t involve sedation, being knocked unconscious, or drowning. With that thought in mind, he closed his eyes and let himself drift off into an empty sleep.

^^^^

He should have expected this. Alex held back a groan as Jerry continued his rambles. It was day two of being confined to his hospital bed. The day before, he had gotten two visits from a nurse; he took note that it was not the same nurse he had originally. She had check his bandages, brought dinner, and helped him go to and from the bathroom. If Alex was honest, he was far fonder of her than the other woman.

The nurse’s name was Kanon Himuro. Her long black hair was tied up in a loose bun, and thin wire glasses sat on the bridge of her nose, framing her stern, dark brown eyes. Her lips were thin and held what could only be described as the smallest smile ever. She was mostly quiet, not aiming to create much small talk. Her conversations with him were limited to how he felt and asking if he wanted anything specific for dinner. He found the silence far more comforting than the chatty nurse earlier.

He had woken up the next late morning to Nurse Himuro skimming his charts. She had greeted him quietly when she noticed his eyes trained on her and offered to pick him up something from the cafeteria for a late breakfast. Instead of returning with his requested apple and tea, a familiar conspiracy theorist bumbled into the room. He held a sugar-coated donut wrapped in a napkin in one hand and a steaming cup in the other. A toothy grin stretched across the man’s face as he saw Alex.

“Hey buddy!” Jerry piped up, shuffling over. “I bumped into your nurse at the cafeteria and told her I would bring you back breakfast!” He presented donut and cup.

Alex stared at the food for a moment before taking it from the big man’s grasp. “Thank you,” he murmured. “But I asked for an apple and a cup of tea.”

“Psssh! Come on, kid. You’re in a hospital. Splurge a bit. She told me you wanted tea so I got you some and then I saw the donuts and grabbed a few.”

“Jerry, you only brought one.”

“…”

“How many did you eat on your way up.”

“… Three, I think?”

“You do realize how unhealthy that is, right?”

“But they were really good!”

Alex shook his head. “That is besides the point… Anyways, how are you? How did the team react after I… Ran off?” he asked. He had realized last night that he had probably put the consultant in a bit of a bind by running off on his own.

“Got yelled at a bit because Steve was all frantic but they understood. I’m fine though. I wanted to come visit you since most of the team is busy with the aftermath of everything last week,” replied Jerry.

His reference to time peaked Alex’s interest. “By the way, how long was I out for?” he questioned. “No one has told me yet, and I forgot to ask my nurse yesterday.”

Jerry rubbed his arm awkwardly. “Well… You were kind of out for about two days, which means you've been here for about three and a half days.”

“Well that’s inconvenient…” grumbled the boy, glowering.

“Hey, but you're awake, and I’m here!” cheered Jerry. “I have a few stories up my sleeve that I bet will surprise you! Well… Probably not too surprising since you're a spy and all but they’re all true! Like when I-…”

The teen sighed and decided to try eating the donut while Jerry chattered away. He bit into the baked good, teeth sinking through a layer of sugar paste and into the soft cakey ring. His nose wrinkled as the intense sugary sweet taste flooded his mouth. He wasn’t used to this much sugar. Taking a long sip of the bitter tea, Alex leaned back and absently listened to Jerry’s stellar account of unlocking a secret treasure in a statue.

This was going to be a long week.


	12. A Blunt Statement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyyyyyy. The story has like, three chapters left! It's almost summer so I might just finish uploading next Thursday and Friday. I have finals next week so I'm uploading bit earlier than normal. After that... I will finish up this story entirely! 
> 
> I've had fun with this one, tbh. I hope you guys have enjoyed it too.
> 
> As always, if you notice any inconsistencies or grammatical errors, please tell me! I proof read these myself. It's nice to have feedback!

Steve was nervous. When Steve was nervous, Steve was also a little twitchy. By twitchy, that means he fiddled with whatever was in his hands or he tapped his foot obnoxiously loud against the floor. Currently he was doing both, clicking a pen as he tapped his foot. At this point, Danny was pretty sure he was going to strangle the man.

It was day four of hospitalized Alex. In comparison to Nervous Steve, Hospital Alex was far more obnoxious. The teen was naturally active, constantly shifting and stretching and tapping. He was short-tempered with those he dubbed momentarily annoying, sending sarcastic quips at anyone interfering with his space. Danny had been debating whether the nurse would let him duct tape the kid’s lips shut.

“Can you _please_ stop!” whined the second-in-command as the commander started clicking the pen again.

Steve paused, looking over at him. “Stop what?”

“That infernal pen clicking!” he shot back. “What the hell has you so worked up?”

The other man glowered slightly. “Nothing,” he replied, setting the pen down. “What makes you think I’m nervous about anything?”

“First, I never asked about nervousness. Second…” Danny pointed accusingly at the pen lying on the desk. “Whenever you get antsy about something important, you start clicking that thing like you’ll die if you don’t.”

A huff was the commander’s response before he stated, “It’s Alex.”

“What about him?”

“Besides being in a hospital?”

“Yes, besides that.”

“I don’t know how he’ll react when we tell him.”

“We? This was your idea.”

“Well you helped so you’re going with me.”  
“So did Chin!”

“Anyways,” Danny grumbled as Steve ignored him. “We didn't ask him what he wanted. What if he reacts badly? What if-…”

“I’m going to stop you there,” the dark blond spoke up, cutting him off. “The kid legitimately _stated_ that he hates his job. Not only that, but the kid also has been through a lot.” He ran a hand down his face. “And besides, like I said, he’s just a kid, a _teenager._ He’ll probably get moody for a while but he’ll bounce back.”

Steve frowned but nodded. “I guess so.”

“You guess so?” scoffed Danny, crossing his arms with an arrogant look in his eyes. “If Grace has taught me one thing, it is that teens and their moods are something that never stay the same.”

He received an eye roll in response. “Fine, maybe I am overreacting…”

“Overreacting. You are definitely ove-…”

Danny was cut off as Chin burst into the room. “We may have a problem,” he said, gesturing for them to follow. “And I don’t think you're going to like it.”

Steve and Danny rose and followed suit as the their teammate led them to the holotable. Catherine and Grover were there as well as a stranger. Grover was not too pleased with the man, his eyebrows furrowed into a scowl, and his lips held tightly together. The man was tall and thin, bearing a dull gray suit that matched his equally dull complexion and thin, pale hair. Spindly glasses sat on his nose that stuck out like a bird beak. His eyes were a solid steely tone that bore into the oncoming trio like hot irons.

When he spoke, his accent was hard to miss. “Commander McGarret and Detective Williams, I presume,” he drawled, turning up his sharp nose. “A _pleasure_ to meet you both.” Hissharp sarcasm was evident as the words rolled off his tongue.

“Yes, I’m Commander Steve McGarret,” replied the commander warily. The man was giving off a strange vibe and looked practically half out of the grave. One look at the hollow face and pale skin would send any child running and screaming. “And you are.”

The old man sniffed. “Alan Blunt, MI6.” The temperature in the room dropped noticeably. “I’ve come to collect something belonging to my agency.”

“Somet _hing_ ,” Danny spat. “Alex is not a _thing_! He is a person, a _child_!”

“Aren’t you a spitfire,” Blunt remarked, sniffing again and dabbing under his nose with a silk handkerchief. “But I am in a tad of a hurry. If you’ll direct me to where he is being held, I’ll be on my way.”

“I don’ think so, buddy,” Grover rumbled beside him. The big man leaned forward. “Kid ain’t goin’ anywhere until he’s healthy.”

Blunt’s eyes hardened, glaring at the man. “I beg your pardon.”

“Just like he said,” Catherine shot. “Alex isn’t leaving until he’s healed. He isn’t out of here for another week, at the earliest that is.” She placed her hands on her hips, a fiery defiance glinting in her eyes.

The MI6 agent scoffed. “Commander, your agents are far ruder than I had thought. Is this because they’re Americans or because of their title?” he snapped.

At this point, the air had become heavily strained. The task force have would liked nothing better than to tear him apart. Steve stopped Danny from returning the arrogant statement. “With all due respect, _sir_ , I will ask you to not make any comments against the members of my task force.”

“Hmmm, I don't have all day commander,” Blunt sniffed. “I would like to leave this dreaded island as soon as possible.”

“Then leave,” growled Danny. “We don't want’cha here.”

“Danny, stand down,” Steve commanded. Turning to Blunt, he continued, “Sorry but you’re not getting Alex back.

“And _why_ is that?” the old man hissed. “You may have immunity and means but that doesn't mean you can take a child from another country from their legal guardian.”

“Who says you’re still his legal guardian?”

^^^^

It was now day five in the hospital, and Alex was getting continually anxious. There was no word from Alan Blunt or MI6. Normally they’d just snatch him up with little resistance but there hadn't been a peep from them. It was starting to put the young spy on edge.

The silence of MI6 was the only silence he got. Jerry made it a point to visit and provide Alex with as much sugar as possible. Lou Grover and Catherine visited with Chin once, bringing him news on the rest of the Yakuza. The other members under Hiroshi had been caught and were incarcerated; none of them could get at him or Kono.

There were a few visits from Steve and Danny. Steve had come more than his counterpart. He'd apologized for upsetting him when he had woke up and engaged in small talk whenever he came by. The problem was that when Danny came around, the man found ways to get on his nerves. They would argue a bit, and Danny normally left sooner than the others.

After being confined in a hospital bed for so long, Alex was itching for some real movement. On day three, he had attempted to travel to the restroom alone. Nurse Himuro had caught him limping across the room and scolded him, helping him the rest of the way. He had aggravated his leg injury and was given more painkillers for the pain backlash he got when he returned to the bed. Her visits became noticeably more frequent after that.

But Alex needed to do something, see someone else, hear some news! He was bored out of his skull. For the third time that morning he started counting the ceiling tiles. He knew by now that there were fifty-eight tiles; he’d counted them the second day he was awake.

“Twenty-four… Twenty-five… Twenty-six…” he mumbled. “Twenty-seven… Twenty-eight… Twenty-ni-…”

The door opened, cutting off his counting. Steve entered with the rest of the task force in tow. They all looked a little ruffled with shirts rumbled and hair sloppy. Alex quirked a brow. “What happened to you guys? Get caught in a stampede?” He quipped.

“If only,” Catherine sighed, going to the side of his bed. “Feeling any better?”

Alex shrugged. “Sure. Could be worse.”

Chin smiled. “That’s good news at least.”

The teen took another glance across the group’s faces. His eyes grew serious. “Something happened,” he stated rather than questioned. “It was MI6, wasn't it. That’s why I haven’t heard from them. They went to you all first. Who’d they send?”

After sharing glances, Steve accounted their run in with Alan Blunt. Alex scowled as the commander told him about the man’s crude responses. “Bloody hell… I can’t believe he even came here,” the boy muttered. “He hates this type of environment just as much as actually having to get his hands dirty.”

“What kind of environment?” questioned Danny, curious.

“Anything happy and with life.”

“Fitting.”

“What I don't get is why I’m still here, and Blunt isn’t,” continued Alex, confused. “Why am I not on a plane back to London yet?”

All eyes turned to the commander. “Well… That’s the thing…” Steve began, rubbing the back of his neck. “They kind of don't have the rights to you anymore.”

There was a beat. “What?”

“MI6 doesn't own Alex Rider anymore,” he repeated. “Technically, no one owns you.”

Alex’s mind drew a blank. That wasn’t possible. “That’s not possible. They literally own me, papers and all.”

“About that, the papers have kind of been revoked.”

“…”

Steve continued trying to explain. “I have lots of friends in high places all over the world, including England. I called in a few favors. We found a few loopholes and now…” The man became quiet, obviously trying to figure out how to explain what ‘now’ was.

“Now you're Steve’s kid,” Danny stated, annoyed with his commander’s silence.

The quiet that followed was heavy. Alex’s jaw dropped, staring gobsmacked at Steve. Steve had done _what?!_ How in the world did he have a favor or two from people more powerful than Alan Blunt? How did they manage this at all?

“Kid?” Chin asked, lightly shaking his shoulder. He looked up at a stressed Steve. “We’ll uh… Leave you guys be. Let’s go.” The other members of Five-0 stepped out of the hospital room, leaving the newly dubbed father and son alone.

Honestly, Steve had no idea what to say. He probably should have thought that part through before Danny opened his big mouth. He’d pay for that later. The commander breathed in and out a long breath before he opened his mouth again.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier,” he apologized. His palm returned to the base of his neck as he stepped forwards. “I should have told you right when you woke up but we argued and I didn’t think it was the right time and-…”

“You’re rambling, commander,” Alex interjected.

“Right…”

“It’s just a lot to take in to be honest,” the teen admitted. He leaned back into the cushy hospital pillow. “When you’re forced into an organization against your will and are held under their thumb for years, it’s kind of hard to believe that you’re actually… free.”

The commander moved again, this time he was right next to the bed. He placed a hand on the somber boy’s shoulder. “I understand, in a way. But you really are free from MI6,” he comforted.

Alex turned his gaze up the the man, eyes glistening slightly. Steve realized the boy was holding back tears. “How are you so sure?”

“I’m positive. The people who owed me favors, they’re fairly high up in the government over there. I also know a few people in Interpol and MI5,” he explained. “They pulled as many strings as they could and got you out.”

There was another pause in the conversation as Alex mulled over what he had heard. Then he blinked, and a few tears dripped from his eyes. “I’m finally free,” he whispered. “I’m bloody free.”

Steve smiled. This was the first time Alex had actually looked like a child other than when he was sick in the bathroom the week before. His cheeks were red, his eyes were shining, and a smile curled across his lips. He was practically buzzing with excitement.

“I… Thank you, commander,” the teen murmured. “Thank you so much.”

“No problem, kiddo,” responded Steve, ruffling the messy mop of blond hair.

Alex grinned for a few moments before it dropped. “Wait, did Danny say you… adopted me?” he prodded, quirking a brow.

“Yes actually,” Steve replied. “Part of one of the agreements with my favor was that one of us had to take you in. You’re still a minor.”

“Yeah but why you?”

“Am I really that bad?”  
“What? No! I was referring to like… Captain Grover or Detective Williams or even Lieutenant Kelly. Why were they not included?”

“Well, for one, Lou and Danny both have families. Lou has two kids, and Danny has a slightly complicated relationship with his ex-wife and a daughter. Chin is busy with trying to get everything together for his sister coming back, and he has a smaller living space because it’s just him. That leaves me,” Steve explained thoroughly. “I have the biggest house, I don’t have any kids or complicated relationships with an ex-wife, and I know you the most.”

“How so?” Alex asked.

“You did kind of vomit in my toilet, and we slept together in the bathroom while you were sick,” the commander reminded him blankly.

“Oh, yeah…”

“You’re not disappointed that I’m adopting you, are you?”

“Of course not. It’s a bit sudden but hey, sudden changes are normal for me.”

“Well, from now on, that is going to mellow out. No more crazy spy escapades for a while, you got that?”

“Loud and clear,” Alex chirped. “Though I might want to warn you… Problems tend to follow me wherever I go, on or off mission.”

“Our lives are already fairly hectic. What’s a few more crazies going to do?” Steve quipped back, a grin on his face.

Alex smiled and leaned back into the pillow. “Really though… Thank you, commander.”

“Steve,” the man stated. “Call me Steve.”

“Alright. Thank you, Steve.”


	13. Shrimp Truck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *YEETS FLUFF AT YOU* Accept a chunk of slice of life!!!!
> 
> I finished my last final of the year today! All I have left to do is take part in the last DnD session of the semester and pack! Expect the rest of the story to be out by May 3rd (Chapter 14 on May 2nd and Chapter 15 on May 3rd).
> 
> As always, tell me if you find any inconsistencies or grammatical errors! I proofread these chapters myself.

Fresh air. Sweet fresh air.

Alex took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I forgot how beautiful fresh air was,” he sighed. The sunlight was warm against his arms and face, and the cool breeze ruffled his hair. He had been hospitalized for eight days total. He had slept through the first two, and the other six were spent recovering while awake. His body felt stiff from the prolonged bed rest but he didn’t care at this point.

Not only was he free from the hospital bed but also from MI6. He, officially, was not a spy. It was like all holidays converged on one moment. The news had actually made him cry, something he hadn’t done in a while. Steve had comforted him and brought him back to stable. When the others had come back in, the duo were talking about the future.

As of the moment, they were leaving the hospital, moving down the sidewalks. Alex was banned from even attempting to walk on his own without crutches for another three to four days. Any stress on his stitches or his bullet wound could lead to more damage. In fact, all the running and swimming he had done was one of the reasons he had been confined for so long, having tore muscles and inflames the first wound in his gut. Therefore, he was stuck being pushed in a wheelchair by Steve for now.

“How does the weather differ here from England?” asked Danny. “I’ve never been.”

“Imagine the depressed, musty corner of your old sock drawer where you keep all the socks with holes and then imagine a tropical paradise. That is the difference between Hawaiian weather and British weather,” the teen explained.

The man snorted. “Glad I’m here then.”

“Feeling’s mutual,” Alex shot back.

“We’ll have to have a little party for Alex’s recovery and adoption,” piped up Catherine, holding a giant teddy bear. It had been from Jerry and had creamy fur and dark sunglasses. Apparently it had been a “spy” bear and would “keep Alex company while Jerry wasn't around.”

“My kids would love to meet you,” Grover agreed. “I told them a little about you.”

“Grace hasn’t seen all of you for a while, so why not?” Danny added. “How aboutwe go to Kamekona’s?”

“You up for shrimp, kid?” Steve asked from behind as he pushed the wheelchair forwards. “Do you even like shrimp?”

“Going to be honest, anything is better than eating the same hospital food for the seventh day in a row,” responded Alex. “And I mean anything.”

The group laughed. “Hey look, there’s our ride,” Catherine pointed. A large, old van sat at the end of the sidewalk. The back door opened, revealing a smiling Chin. Jerry, in the front seat, leaned back and waved.

“Come on in!” called Chin. “Your chariot awaits!”

With that, Alex shot his arms out and grabbed the push rims of the wheel chair. The metal was cool and, sadly, familiar to his palms. “Last one there has to buy lunch!” he yelled, propelling himself forwards. Steve, stunned by the sudden movement, had lost his grip and was left behind.

“You asshole!” shouted Danny, breaking into a sprint. Catherine and Grover shared a look and followed suit. Steve blinked, realized what Alex had challenged, and broke into a run.

Alex had reached the van first, slowing down and stopping himself. Danny got there next with Steve, who had over taken the others, right on his tail. Catherine increased her speed, leaving Grover in the dust. “I demand a rematch,” the man wheezed, hands on his knees.

“Hell no. I beat you,” Danny snapped. “You heard the little man. You’re paying today’s lunch bill.” To this, Grover glowered but gave in.

Alex was rubbing his palms against his thighs softly, a small crease settling on his brow. “What’s up, kid?” the commander asked, noting the discomfort.

“Nothing much. I just forgot how much it hurts when you try to use a manual wheelchair without gloves,” Alex explained. He presented his palms. They were a painful shade of red along the pads of his palms.

Steve frowned. “We’ll pick some up for you so you can get around on your own.”

“You really don't have to.”

“Alex, as your legal guardian, your wellbeing is important to me. If doing this barehanded hurts you, it is my job to make it stop.”

The teen lowered his head, embarrassed. “Alright.”

After that, the team helped lift the wheelchair into the van. Danny and Grover took different vehicles while Catherine, Steve, and Chin stayed with Jerry and Alex. As Jerry drove, Alex watched the landscape go by. This was his home now, an actual home. It was breathtaking. The shimmering ocean curling its waves along the coast, the vibrant plants reaching from the earth, and the masses of cultural statues and buildings appeared along the way.

Alex hadn't realized he had dozed off to the sound of Jerry’s voice and the rattle of the van as it traveled along the highways. He woke when Chin gently jostled his shoulder. “We’re here, Alex,” the lean asian man spoke, a smile across his lips. “You feeling up to this or do you want to get takeout and go home?”

The teen shook his head. “No, I’m good,” he drawled softly, stretching a bit. “I’ll need a bit of help with the sand though.”

The man grin widened. “We gotcha.”

The door slid back, and Steve was waiting outside the van. Chin helped Alex rise unsteadily to his feet, crouching. Using the commander’s arm as a stabilizer, he clambered out of the vehicle. His knees buckled, and he would have crumpled to the ground if it wasn't for the man holding him up.

He blinked at the sunlight shining brightly into his eyes. Finding his bearings, the teen straightened himself, favoring his injured leg. “Ok, let’s go,” he stated, bracing himself on the adult next to him.

Steve helped his ward across the warm sand and up to the picnic tables. Alex settled on one of the benches, spreading himself across the table top. The sun soaked into his dark blue t-shirt, heating his body. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, breathing in a deep breath of fresh, salty sea air. Hawaii was far more enjoyable when you weren't in danger of getting caught by a Japanese mafia.

The bench creaked as the others joined him at the picnic table. He felt a hand rub circles on his back just below his shoulder blades. The hand was thin and small, fingers soothing any tensions along his spine. Out of the group present, he knew it was most likely Catherine. He groaned softly, crossing his arms and nuzzling his face into the crook of one of them.

While they waited for Danny and Grover, the others chatted about a new case. If the sun hadn't been so warm and the back rub so soothing and the breeze so relaxing, he'd probably would have added his own two cents. For now, he remained perfectly silent, letting the details lull him into another nap. This was the most voluntary sleep he'd gotten in years, he wasn't going to pass it up.

Of course, all good things must come to an end. Danny and Grover arrive moments later, livening up the conversation with their boisterous voices. The loudness woke him up from his dozing. He sat up, blinking the bleariness from his tired, brown eyes. Some of his hair was mused and plastered against his face. The others glanced at him, smiling at his childish appearance.

“Have a nice nap?” Catherine asked, moving her palm from his back. She had stopped rubbing when she realized he had nodded off but left her hand pressed comfortingly against his shoulder blades.

Rolling his shoulder, Alex yawned. “Best voluntary sleep I’ve had in ages.”

Danny quirked a brow. “Voluntary?”

“I think the best sleep I’ve had in the past… Three years?…was when I was drugged on my second mission,” he decided. Noticing the look of dismay and shock on the faces around him, he added, “what?”

“You got _drugged?_ ” growled Steve. “Who drugs a kid?”

“Surprisingly, lots of people.”

“And why were you drugged?”

“Now thats one thing I would like to know… Probably related to the whole cloning thing.” Alex tapped his chin. “At least I think that’s what Doctor Grief said…”

“…”

“So the weather’s pretty nice today…”

“Are you always so nonchalant about life threatening situations?” asked Chin, worry etched into his features. “So far, you're a bit… _Too_ okay with all of this.”

The teen in question thought for a moment before stating “I think nonchalantness is my coping mechanism?”

“I think that’s your unnecessary amount of dark humor you possess, kiddo,” Danny shot back. “And you realize that coping mechanism isn't healthy, right? You need to talk about this…”

Alex groaned, rubbing his hand down his face. “Can we… can we talk about this later? I just got out of the hospital.”

“We will talk about this later,” Steve affirmed. “Bad coping mechanisms are not something you should have, especially as a child.”

“Well ‘ey, it’s muh favorite custom’ahs,” Kamekona cheered, wandering over to the table. The large man paused, noticing Alex. “I know you! Yo’ the lil’ guy!”

The boy tensed, fingers twitching with unease. “Um… Yeah. I’m sorry I left you hanging last time,” he apologized.

Kamekona blinked, processing the boy’s voice. “Yo’ got an accent! I thought chu’ was an American.”

“No, I’m from England,” he responded awkwardly. “I can fake an American accent. Long story on why though.” As he spoke, he switched into the subtle drawl, showing his ability to manipulate his voice.

“Cool,” grinned the Hawaiian man. “Yo’ doin’ ok, lil’ man?”

“Could be better,” Alex answered honestly. “But I’ll be good in a while; don’t worry. I’m a quick healer.” He gave the man a thumbs up.

He nodded. “Ah’right. Now wah can I do fo’ yo’ all?”

“Lunch,” Danny replied. “And our friend, Grover, has the tab today so…” He leaned forward, grinning. “…Hit me up with some of that expensive shrimp I tried last time.”

Grover whined. “Danny, my wallet is in tears.” He waved the leather case. One could practically hear its weeping… No wait, that was Grover making crying sound effects.

“You didn’t care last time I paid,” Danny crowed, tilting his head back. “Karma’s a bitch, buddy.”

Grover sighed and simply ordered his own meal. Steve went next, followed by Chin and Catherine. Alex finally chose the same thing he had the first time he came to visit, the Shrimp Fried Rice. When Kamekona meandered away, Chin turned to Alex. “You know you could have gotten something more. Grover’s wallet won’t get too bad of a dent.”

“Es’cuse _you_ , ‘I’ll-Take-A-Large-Please.’ You get no say in my wallet’s size,” snapped Grover, pulling out bills to pay Kamekona when he returned with their orders. “He’s not wrong though, son. You could have ordered something bigger.”

Alex shook his head. “I’ll be fine,” he spoke. “I’ve overdone it after being on hospital food before. It’s not fun. And besides, I’ve had his Fried Rice one when I came by the first time. I liked it.”

The man shrugged. “Alright then.”

“You excited to live here?” Catherine asked, changing the subject. “Is there anything from England you want to bring over?”  
Alex shook his head. “Nothing big. Just a few books and photos.”

“I’ll call my contacts out there tonight,” Steve decided. “They can collect your things and bring them over as soon as possible. What books and pictures?”

“I have a few family pictures in my apartment as well as some textbooks I was studying. They’re all still in boxes along with some clothes.” Alex chose to leave out the fact that the text books contained military codes, weapon training manuals, and other miscellaneous things _every_ teen clearly needed to learn. “I never got to unpack before being sent here.”

Danny scrunched up his face as he scowled. “I still can’t believe they thought having a kid as a spy was a good idea. That is literally abuse.”

The teen looked at him, a sad smile on his face. “You’re the first group who has thought so, other than my caretaker and some friends of course. Your country has used me before you know. I think I mentioned it earlier.”

“I know,” grumbled the blond man, crossing his arms over his chest. “Insane bastards…”

“Food’s h’er!” boasted Kamekona, shuffling over with a few trays. Another large man, donning the Kamekona’s Shrimp Truck shirt and a decent amount of tatoos, followed in suit with more trays. “Lil’ man, ‘dis is muh cousin, Flippa.”

“Nice ta meetcha,” greeted the newcomer with a wide grin.

“Ditto,” the younger shot back.

“An’ h’ers da food,” announced the truck owner, beginning to lay the food out on the table. Everyone grabbed his or her’s meal. Alex dug in immediately, stomaching aching for substance other than the crummy hospital sandwiches and Jerry’s overly sugary donuts.

He shoveled a few forkfuls into his mouth, the taste overtaking his tastebuds. It was greasy and salty and exactly what he needed after his stay in the sterilized, pristine hospital room. He lost track of the others around him as he zeroed in on the food. It wasn't until his instincts made him shiver, and the spy looked up. Everyone was staring at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” Steve answered. “You were just kind of out of it for a bit. You were really hungry, weren’t you.”

Alex quirked a brow. “I guess.”

“Kiddo,” Danny butted in. “It’s been five minutes at the most and look at you plate.”

Alex looked down. The styrofoam plate had more grease stains than food now. He had gotten a medium and yet he had basically consumed most of his meal in under five minutes. He had devoured the food like a vacuum cleaner. Heat began rising to his cheeks. “Oh…” was all he managed.

The others laughed. “You really were hungry,” Chin chuckled. “Sure you don’t want more?”

The teen shook his head. “I don’t need any more.”

“Well, as soon as we finish, I can call Jerry up to drive us to Steve’s place, and you can get some real rest,” the asian man continued.

Jerry, having to go help his mom at her house, had promised to return to their beck and call. The man had been disappointed that he couldn't stay longer with the group but Alex had promised to hang out with the consultant later. He had brightened considerably and had gone on his way until they required his assistance.

“Fine by me,” responded Alex, rubbing his eyes slightly. He blinked, trying to clear his vision. With the new weight in his stomach and the warm sun overhead, drowsiness started to tug at him. A yawn escaped his lips, and he decided to settled his head back into the comfort of his folded arms.

As the others sparked conversations, Alex began dozing off once more. The sounds of rolling waves and squawking birds faded into comfortable background noise. Eventually, the voices of his companions became tuned out as he slipped into sleep. He hoped he could actually rest this time.


	14. Settle Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ONE MORE CHAPTER!  
> I'm done with the school year and will be moving out soon! Gosh, time has flown by. Here's some more fluff and a bit of angst. It wouldn't be Alex Rider if there wasn't some angst involved.
> 
> As always, if there are any inconsistencies or grammatical errors, let me know.

Alex woke up in a different location. The room was dark, dull light streaking across the walls from the window. Drowsiness still clutched at his mind as he sat up. A weak groan escaped his chapped lips when the sudden stiffness of this muscles hit him. He would probably feel the after effects of his hospital confinement for a while.

After rubbing the sleep from his eyes, the teen slowly shimmied out of the covers and swung his legs over the edge of the large bed. He settled there for a few moments, attempting to gain some bearings. He took in his surroundings as his vision adjusted to the shadowy lighting. The furniture matched that of Steve’s guest room. The street view beyond the window only confirmed his suspicions as a car softly roared passed, headlights cutting through the night.

How long had he been asleep? He pondered this as he scanned the room once more. A pair of crutches leaning against the nightstand caught his eye, and he grabbed hold of them. He knew he wasn’t suppose to walk on his own right now but… When has that stopped him before? Besides, he’d be careful. Bracing himself, he wobbled up to a standing position. Tucking the shoulder rests under his arms, Alex grabbed the handgrips and, painstakingly slowly, moved towards the door.

To his relief, it had been partially cracked. With a small nudge, the door swung open to reveal the length of the hall on the second floor of Steve’s house. He trudged down the stretch of carpet until he reached the stairs. At this point, it would be hard. He hadn't gone down stairs with the need for crutches in a while.

He shifted one crutch to the opposite side. Gripping the hand rail with his free hand, he tried to keep his balance as he shifted down the steps. His upper body was fairly strong, and he was able to hold himself up all the way to the ground floor. It was a quick switch to return to holding a crutch under each arm.

Now on tile, the crutches’ rubber tips squeaked as he moved. A head appeared outside of the brightly lit kitchen. “Alex?” Steve called out, bewildered. “What are you doing down here?”

“Woke up, need water,” the teen croaked out. He coughed a bit at the dry tickle in his throat. “What time is it?”  
The man turned and padded over to a cabinet, bare feet slapping down on the cold linoleum floor. He grabbed a glass from a shelf as Alex settled at the table. “You’re now suppose to walk yet. You should have called to me, kiddo,” Steve stated, filling the glass at the sink. “And it’s nine thirty. You've slept about seven hours.” He moved and held the cup out to the boy.

Alex hummed, taking the water. Pushing the cool glass against his cracked lips, he let the icy liquid slide over his tongue and down his throat. It was rain in the desert as he gulped down the heavenly drink. He set the half-empty cup down with a soft thud as the commander sat across from him.

“So… What are we going to do now?” His words were careful and quiet. He honestly didn't know how to address Steve. Everything had happened so suddenly.

Was Steve just Steve or was he technically his father? He didn't exactly remember his actual father other than the images he had seen of the man with his mother. Other than that, his closest father figure had been his uncle, and he had died little over three years ago. No one had even come close to filling that spot within the last few years, the only examples of a family being slaughtered in Cuba before he could really get to know them and being stripped from in an instant by MI6 before he could even blink.

Alex looked into Steve’s eyes. The man was nice but, as he had already acknowledged, this all seemed so quick. “Why did you adopt me exactly?” He questioned seriously.

The man before him was quiet for a moment, contemplating how to answer this. He hummed softly. “I suppose… It’s because I felt a need to… When I was younger, my mom faked her death and left. Of course, we thought she died. I was sent off by my father and was alone for a while. The only people I really had was a family friend, Joe, and my little sister. It wasn't until my dad was murdered that I moved back home from the Navy.

“When I saw you, I knew we had similar experiences. I was forced away from and lost those I loved just like you. I mean, you clearly have had it worse but I could understand, even just a little. I also knew you needed an actual childhood, and if that meant I got you out by adoption, then so be it. I think I can handle parenting if it means you get some peace.”

Alex took in the information. “You really think you made the right decision?” The boy asked. He sounded surprisingly meek and was looking through his bangs almost worriedly.

Steve snorted. “I have to take care of a dysfunctional task force everyday. If I can handle Danny and his dramatics, I can take care of a sarcastic teenager.”

A grin turned the teen’s lips upward. “Can’t argue with that,” Alex admonished.

“Though, as your honorary father,” the commander spoke up. “My first measure of business is getting your hair cut. How can you see through those bangs?”

Alex pushed his hair back. “I dunno. I try to style it. I haven't had time to cut it since my SAS training finished. Our last assignment was a two month survival mission, and my hair grows fast so…” He fiddled with a few locks of the fair hair. “It is a bit unruly, isn't it.”

“Yep, so let’s do that. While we’re out, we can get you some actual clothing other than hand-me-downs until your boxes get here.”

^^^^

Catherine had joined the duo as they went shopping. It was strange. The last time he had done any personal shopping with friends was before MI6 had snatched him back under their control. He had been quickly shipped off to SAS training and, obviously, was not able to go shop ping while there.

The dark haired woman was helping Alex maneuver through the tight isles of the the small shop. They were in a simple resale store located within a mall. The teen personally preferred the simplistic, less expensive stores in comparison to expensive. He had grimaced at the suggestion of a place like Hot Topic or Spencer’s who were both expensive and knowingly angst magnets.

She had laughed at his description. “This resale shop is pretty good. I’ve gotten a dress or two from here. Let’s try over there,” she said, gently turning the wheelchair Alex sat in. “Hopefully Steve will get back soon. He can help you in the changing rooms.”

The commander in reference was off getting a few things of his own from a store opposite to the resale one. He hadn't exactly elaborated what he needed but Alex didn't have enough interest to prod; he just wanted to get the clothes and go. Steve entrusted the boy to Catherine and would be back eventually.

Alex watched as the woman shuffled through the racks, collecting random shirts, jackets, sweaters… She honestly was grabbing anything his size that wasn't horribly ugly. She returned, arms filled with an array of fabrics and hangers. “I think this is good for now. I can at least help with this if needed. Steve can help you with pants,” Catherine decided. “Want to try them on?”

“Can I look through them first?” Alex asked. “I can pick out what isn't exactly my.. style.”

The woman snorted. “Style? Kid, Steve found you in the ugliest souvenir shirt on the island. You better have better style than that.”

Heat rose to his cheeks. “I didn't have many options,” Alex muttered. “The guy didn't have any style.”

She lifted a brow with a cheek smile. “Whatever you say,” she hummed arranging her picks on an empty rack. “Just tell me the ones you like and I’ll move them to a fitting room.”

Alex nodded and wheeled himself over. While he wasn't exactly keen on being all fashionable, his uncle had taught him well when it came to quality and style. He ran his fingers through the different fabrics, glancing the price tags of each one. There were some obvious ‘no way’s such as the toxic yellow dress shirt and the itchy blue turtle necks. On the other hand, he found a few plain t-shirts of neutral shades as well as a dark sweatshirt and a soft, green sweater; all were fairly cheap but well made.

“These are good,” he decided holding roughly six hangers. He was surprised to see the woman frown. “What’s wrong.”

“These are all pretty plain. Don't you want some more variety?” she questioned. “Like graphic tees or somethings?”

Alex shrugged. “Those are more expensive. I’m not looking for anything flashy.”

“Alex, Steve doesn't mind spending money on you. He literally barely spends any money in general. A few shirts aren't going to be the end of the world.”

“I know but-…”

“You know what. No buts. I’m grabbing a few more shirts, and you’re helping me pick them,” the woman commanded, hands on her hips. “Lets go, kid.” In one clean motion, she snatched the clothing from his hands, placed them in the bottom of the cart, and moved his wheelchair over. “Get on. We’re going for a spin.”

As much as the teen disagreed with Catherine, he decided to just accept it. She obviously wasn't changing her mind any time soon and he preferred to please his guardian’s girlfriend? Was she Steve’s girlfriend? He never quite found out about that. The dynamics were there, and the two complimented each other in their passion and dedication.

His thoughts of the adult’s connections was promptly interrupted by a jacket falling on his head. “Wha-…” Alex lifted the fabric from his eyes. He caught the woman’s expectant gaze. “Sorry. I got lost in thought.”

Catherine shook her head but gestured to the jacket. “Like it or would you rather have a different color?” she questioned.

He pulled the article of clothing from his head and into his lap. It was a name brand jacket, the material light and slick. It was a deep navy with two white streaks running along both sides and the brand logo embroidered in white. The jacket looked to be designed for moderate weather conditions like in Hawaii where the temperatures rarely dropped low yet, occasionally, required one to seek some insulation.

Before Alex could look at the price tag, the fabric was snatched from his hand. “No peeking,” commanded Catherine, the jacket held out of his reach. “Do you like it or not?”  
Thinking, the teen ended up nodding. While blue wasn’t his favorite color, he didn't mind it. The dark navy would be a simple color to match with and wouldn't clash too much with other shirts. Not only that, but the mobility of the fabric and the dark shade of blue would aid him if he had to sneak somewhere…

He stopped his line of thinking. He was no longer a spy; he didn't need to worry about stealthy aspects of clothing. A sudden reality had placed itself on his shoulders as Catherine turn to find other clothing for him to inspect. Alex had been trained to be a spy. He was born into this fate with his family before him living the life he had just escaped from; it was in his _blood_. Something like this didn't go away the moment he quit.

As the woman continued showing him different wears, he offhandedly answered. If the clothing looked generally decent, he agreed. It wasn't until Catherine jokingly showed him a nightgown that she realized something was wrong.

“Alex,” she spoke in a louder tone. The boy jumped a bit when he heard her. “Are you ok?”

Alex nodded. “Why wouldn't I be?”

“Because you just agreed that this would look great on you.” She gestured to the hot pink, Hello Kitty nightgown in her hand. Her trained eyes watched as the boy’s face lit up red like a stoplight. It would have made her laugh if she wasn't so worried about him. “What’s up. You can tell me anything, you know,” she offered, squatting down in front of him. She rocked on her heels as she waited for his response.

He was quiet for a moment before giving in. He didn’t like worrying her but he knew that she was only trying to help and would, most likely, nag him until he explained himself. “I’m not really… I just…” he paused, trying to form a full sentence. He clutched the arms of the wheel chair as he continued. “I guess… I guess I’m just having a hard time actually believing I’m free… When I think something, I think though how it would fit into a mission rather than how… how normal teenagers would think through something.”

His confession made her frown. Catherine rested a lightly calloused palm on his tense forearm. “Kid, it’s ok. Of course it will take a while to adjust. Not everything is instantaneous; recovery is a process,” she consoled gently. Her features had softened in a way that could only be described as motherly.

His chest constricted. Her expression matched that of Jack’s when she saw him battered and bruised from a recent mission. His eyes shifted from her face, blocking away the memories. They hurt right now. He’d rather think of something else, anything else.

“Come on,’ prompted Catherine. “How about we pick a few more things and then we can go find Steve. We can talk about it when you feel comfortable.”

Alex looked back at the lean woman as she rose to her full height. Her long hair had fallen forwards, framing her high cheek bones and rounded jaw line. Her lips pursed for a moment before a loose smile rose to her face. “What do ya say, kid?”

He sighed and nodded. “Alright… Let’s go.”

^^^^

Alex sat in the living room, gnawing nervously on his lip. The packages with all his things were coming today, and he was unexplainably nervous. Was he worried something would be lost or damaged? He didn’t know! It was just a few boxes… A few boxes that held his entire past. _‘They are rather important,’_ he decided.

It had been two full days in the McGarrett household. They would be holding a welcome party for him this coming weekend. After that, it was a count down until he could walk without crutches. He would be enrolled in high school officially after that. Until then, Alex was stuck reading and lounging around the expansive house or the Five-0 headquarters. He at least got to walk the task force work, observing Danny’s antics and Chin’s cheeky jokes. His suspicions ofhis new caretaker’s relationship with Catherine were confirmed as well when the two shared a private kiss before heading out to a crime scene.

The front door opened with a creak. “Hey, kiddo,” Steve chimed as he shuffled in. A large box was grasped in his hands. “Danny and Chin are here too. They’re bringing in the other boxes.” He set the cardboard box down with a soft thud. In one clean motion, a pocketknife fell into Alex’s lap. Steve was grinning. “Open ‘em up.”

Alex adjusted himself in the wheel chair and moved himself forwards, gloved hands pushing the rims. He carefully started cutting through the amassing amounts of packing tape holding the flaps shut. Peeling back the cardboard flap, books and a few smaller boxes were revealed. It was his questionable textbooks as well as his photo albums and a few small containers of unplaced photos. Dipping his hand into the box, he pulled out one of the albums and placed it on his lap.

The cover was old and worn, the leather cracking around the edges. Faded cursive wording had been rubbed to the point of illegibility. The teen slowly opened the album, lips pressed together. His own beaming smile glared back at him. Seven-year-old Alex grinned widely as he clutched at the sleeve of a mid-aged Ian. Ian looked almost serene, dark hair sweeping over her forehead and eyes crinkling at the corners from his own smile. The duo was at Big Ben. The giant clock stood tall behind them with one large face frozen in time at 1:15. This had been the beginning of their series of trips around the world.

Yet it was Alex’s favorite picture. He felt warm tears welling up in his eyes, threatening to fall. If it weren’t for Ian being in the damn MI6, he would be back home. Alex would never have been forced to take his place. Jack would be alive! He turned the page only to be greeted by her quirky smile. Her red hair, as fiery as her personality, was pulled into a high ponytail. Her nose was scrunched, a sign of laughter that was about to burst from her being. She was sitting with him, nine years old in this picture, with some spoons and cinnamon sitting on the table top.

He could remember that day faintly. Before MI6, he would jokingly call it the “Day-I-Almost-Died.” Pity how it became common occurrence. If only a stupid cinnamon challenge was the only thing he had to worry about. Normal teens worried about if their selfies turned to out well. Normal teens considered a failing grade the worst thing imaginable. Normal teens thought sneaking out at night to meet with friends was the most dangerous thing in the world. Alex had stared death in the face, gaping jaws and all. Alex wasn’t a normal teen.

And that felt like a stab to the gut.

“I got the biggest one. No idea what you got in… Oh my gosh, Alex!” Danny blurted out, eyes wide. “Why are you crying?”

Alex wiped at his face with a hand. Sure enough, hot tears were running down his cheeks. A few droplets had fallen onto the page, narrowly missing the picture. He pushed the book away, hiccuping softly. Gosh… He was actually crying. This was a second time in a little over a week. The salty drops slid down his face in rapid succession. He could taste them ever so slightly as they passed over the corners of his mouth. The teen hadn’t cried like this since his first mission. When he had gotten back to Jack, he had cuddled with the woman on the couch, absolutely weeping.

A shudder passed through him as arms wrapped around his shoulders. “It’s okay, Alex… Cry it out…” Steve murmured. Alex could feel the words as they reverberated in the man’s chest. He felt the book and pocket knife moved from his lap. Now free of the items, he reached up and clung onto the man’s forearms.

“Why… Why did it have to happen to me… Why did they all have to die?” The words came tumbling out. “Everything I’m around… I ruin it! First my parents and then Uncle Ian… Then there were Turner and Troy… Yassen…Ash… And Jack… God, Jack….” He tucked his chin into his chest. “Why does everyone have to suffer because of me!”

And they sat there for a while. Danny and Chin hovered near the couch while Alex sat in Steve’s embrace. The boy’s loud snuffling and wheezes were the only audible sound. They had realized that he had a lot of pent of emotions, and he needed to let them all out. The commander was already considering getting the boy a professional therapist, someone confidential that the kid could talk to and just let everything out.

“It’s not your fault…” Steve finally said, resting his chin on the mop of fair hair.

Alex’s shoulders shook. “And how do you know that?”

“Because I’ve gone through the same thing…” The man admitted. “I thought my mother died when I was younger. I’ve been a SEAL, and there have been many people I couldn’t save there. Then my dad… He was murdered while I was on the phone with him. There have been many times when I thought the people close to me would die when I was in charge. So many times…”

The teen looked up at the man. “I guess… We’ve both never had it easy, huh?”

Steve gave a sad smile. “Probably not… But all we can do is keep pushing through,” he affirmed.

Alex wiped his face, eyes still shining. “Sorry for being a leaky faucet,” he mumbled. “I don't know what came over me…”

“It’s all good,” Chin consoled. “You had a ton of emotions hit all once. Everyone needs to just release those feels at some point.”

Danny patted his shoulder. “We gotcha, kid. How about we finish unpacking these boxes and go get dinner.”

Steve stood and collected one of the unopened boxes. As he passed the shorter man, he commented “you’re paying this time” and clambered up the stairs.

The blond man almost dropped his own box. “Eh?!”

Alex watched the men bicker about the restaurant bill as Chin shook his head, sighing. This was his new family. He hoped, in the deepest part of him, that he could finally rest.


	15. Rest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINISHED!!!!!
> 
> The story is completed! Wow, this is fantastic. I never thought id get to this point so fast. 
> 
> As always, tell me if there are any inconsistencies or grammatical errors.
> 
> And check out the end note for information about a sequel and extra content!

Alex rested his head against his desk, exhaling heavily. It had been a handful of months since being accepted into Steve's mismatched family. Since then, his life had become strangely calm. He had become so used to the hectic world of MI6 and missions. That’s not to say the after effects of that work had left. No, he still lived his days on barely four hours of sleep and kept most of his feelings to himself. He went to a therapist once a week on Tuesday evenings so things were looking a bit better.

Yet his secluded nature and an unfortunate outburst on his part kept him a little outcast from his classmates. Steve had enrolled him in the new school year. Everyone had been fairly _nice_ yet his only friends of sorts were Lou Grover’s kids. There were a few who could hold conversations with him but he still had trouble staying connected with any of them.

He let his mind wander away from those students milling around him, waiting for the hour to end. Kono and Adam came crossed his line of thoughts. It had been interesting meeting the couple. The two had finally returned after being gone for so long, surprising them all by appearing at Alex’.

_“Who is this?” Kono asked, noting Steve’s younger companion._

_“You’ll never believe this,” Danny chirped from a couch. “He’s Steve’s son!”_

_“What?!” exclaimed the asian woman, eyes wide. “I wasn’t gone that long, Steve!”_

_The man in question rubbed his neck. “He’s more of a ward. I adopted him recently.”_

_“Now this is a story I’ve got to hear,” commented Adam, leaning over his wife’s shoulder._

_The commander went into the story of meeting Alex and his involvement in catching Adam’s remaining enemies. He explained how they'd found out about MI6’s iron fist on the teen’s life. The two looked angry at this, brows furrowed. When Steve got to the part about adopting Alex, Chin perked up._

_“That reminds me! Wait here guys,” he called, running outside. He returned shortly, a wiggling bundle of fur in his arms._

_“Is that a…” Danny began before being cut off by Alex._

_“Holy shit, you actually got it.”_

_The golden and white furry head of a corgi popped up out of Chin’s arms, pink tongue lolling out of its mouth. One of the dog’s ears was flopped down, adding an adorable factor to the already adorable pup. With a few strides, the asian man dropped the corgi into Danny’s lap. It wiggled around before taking a shot at Danny’s face, licking his stubblyjawline._

_Danny sputtered, wiping at his face. “What the hell! Why is this here!?”_

_“You know this lil’ guy was meant for you,” chuckled Chin, a cheeky grin settling on his lips. “Besides, look at him. He loves you.”_

_The dog was settling in the man’s lap, nuzzling its long snout into the pant material on his thigh. It let out a huff before relaxing. Everyone was quiet as Danny stared at the animal blankly._

_“Looks like I have a dog now… A really, really unmanly dog.”_

_A snort left Alex’s nose. Everyone began laughing, startling both Danny and his dog. “What’s his name?” prodded Alex, settling next to the man and pup._

_“I dunno… Marshmallow?” He received lots of blank looks. “What?”_

_“Why Marshmallow?” chuckled Steve, the edges of his lips quirking upwards._

_“Look at it! It’s like a chubby marshmallow. He’s got a gold tint to ‘em. He is clearly a lightly roasted corgi.” Danny’s response, much to his dismay, was met with more laughter. “Laugh it up. I am clearly a genius at names!”_

The rest of the evening and days to come had gone smoothly as it could. Though, how well could it go for a teen finally tasting a freedom he had long desired to be within reach? A part of him still feared the possibility of everything crumbling back down with Alan Blunt crashing in. Or maybe another agency would come crawling back up to ask for help. Hell, Alex wouldn’t put it past even Yassen appearing out of no where.

The others had quickly taken notice of his paranoia, trying their best to give him advice or just some space to calm his jittery nerves. As Alex’s mind began to wander to even more recent events, a hand to his shoulder snapped him from his thoughts. His muscles tensed, freezing his body is a ridged position. He looked up into the stern yet concerned gaze of Mrs. Bray.

“Alex, the bell just rang for next period,” she stated. “Are you alright?”

He was quiet for a moment, looking up at the tall woman. “I’ll be alright,” he swallowed, diverting his gaze away from her. “Just a little stressed I think.”

A frown settled on the tan woman’s face, dark brows furrowing. “Still having trouble settling in with your new family?”

Alex pursed his lips. He couldn’t exactly say that it was because of the fear of government organizations taking advantage of his new “availability.” He decided to simply nod instead. His decision seemed to work out just fine as her visage softened immensely.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the teacher apologized, placing a hand on his shoulder. Her thin fingers rubbed gently as she continued her attempts to comfort him. “If you need any help, just let me know. You have only one more hour before school lets out. You’ve got this, hon.”

The teen gave a smile in an effort to thank her, even if her attempts to put him at ease were in vain. He knew his paranoia would stick close with him for a long while however much he tried to control it. “Thank you, Mrs. Bray,” he offered up.

“If you ever need anything, I’m always here,” she responded, a twinkle in her hazel eyes.

 

^^^^

 

When the final bell rang, he had started to relax more. His last hour was a study period in the library. Even though the boy was younger than him, Lou Grover’s son, Will, also shared this class. Lou had convinced the two to hang out during this period, and it actually hadn’t gone allthat bad.

Even with Grover’s influence, things had started off a little fuddled when Alex and Will tried to relate to each other as regular teens. When their conversations tapered off into silence on more than one occasion, Alex decided to explain a bit more about the far less than savory side of his life before coming to Hawaii. Will had listened keenly to simplified versions of his life story. He had been positive in the end, understanding why Alex had a bit of a harder time relating to another teenager.

“We can play soccer at my house sometime,” Will had offered one time, grinning. “You said you were on a ‘football’ team before the whole spy thing, and football in England is soccer, right? Let’s see if you still got it.” His suggestion had brought a small yet genuine smile to Alex’s face.

They had actually scheduled a time for the coming weekend to play now that he thought about it. He would have to ask Steve to give him a lift to the Grover household. He hoped it wouldn’t be too out of the blue; it was only Wednesday after all. Then again, he wasn’t used to asking permission to go to someone else’s house to play football.

As he moved to his locker to collect his books and homework, he sighed. All this was strange. Scheduling time to hang out with friends? Studying for a test you won’t end up missing? Riding a bus back to a comfortable home after school? All this felt… unnatural.

The bus ride home was as awkward as it always was. Teens chatted around him, showing others videos on their phones or complaining about their homework. His lip curled a bit when he noticed a couple making out a few seats ahead. Couldn’t they snog somewhere else? They were in public for heaven’s sake.

Alex snapped around as something jabbed him sharply in the ribs. The perpetuator jumped at his quick turn around, arms held up in defense. “Whoa, chill bro,” grumbled the boy in the seat across from his. “I come in peace.”

He narrowed his eyes at him. A heavy frown placed itself on his face. The boy was from his class. They shared history together. If he remember correctly, his name was Nathan, and he was on the… soccer team. What did he want with Alex?

“So… I heard you’re British, right?” Alex could already feel the headache coming on. The first week of coming to school had consisted of everyone asking the same kind of questions. Can we hear your accent? Where are you from? Does it _really_ rain all the time in London?

It hadn’t taken long for Alex’s patience to wear dangerously thin. He had ended up snapping at one of the younger students who had been prattling off obnoxiously. Unfortunately, that had been in front of a large portion of students. Word had gotten around that the new kid was emotionally unstable or some shit like that. Now, people tried to avoid having long conversations with him, and those that tried to be friendly ended up cutting off short when he began to withdraw himself. So why was this guy talking to him?

As if sensing his wariness, Nathan held out his hand. “Oh right, I’m Nate. I sit in the back of our history class,” he introduced.

Alex glanced at the lightly tanned hand stretched towards him before reluctantly taking it in his own. The other’s hand was lightly calloused and thin in comparison to his heavily calloused and slightly scarred one. “Alex,” he returned, quickly retreating his hand into his jacket pocket.

Nathan beamed, the skin around his dark eyes crinkling. “Nice to meet you. Now about the British thing…”

“I am British,” he shot back quickly, letting his full accent go through. “I thought everyone in our class knew by now.”

He was rewarded with a quick nod. “Of course! I just… Don’t really know anything else about you. I didn’t exactly have any other conversation starters,” he responded sheepishly. “Like… What your favorite sport is or something like that. That would have been better.”

“I like soccer,” Alex stated bluntly, praying that this would just end rather than awkwardly stretch out. Normally short, cold answers like that would turn most people away pretty fast.

“No way!” crowed Nathan. “I’m on the team! Do you play?”

Alex blinked in surprise. “Um… Yeah…”

“You should try out next time we have tryouts! That is, if you are any good,” he chimed. “Our team is aiming for the top this year.”

A small smile turned the corners of his lips upwards. “I was pretty good back at my old school,” the blond shot back.

The other tilted his head, pale curls bouncing along with the moving bus. “Oh really, we’ll have to see if that adds up.”

It wasn’t long until they got into a comfortable conversation. Alex hadn’t realized he felt relaxed until Nathan had to get off the bus. It was strange as they exchanged goodbyes; Alex hadn’t had a talk like that since Tom. The two were similar: loud, brash, a tad argumentative, and willing to fill the silence Alex tended to provide.

As his stop approached, he gazed out the window. He supposed he now had two friends. He’d just have to wait and see if they lasted. His hope, now crawling back in, was that they would. The two, Will and Nathan, were willing to step out just to talk to him. That meant a lot to him, he realized.

 _‘I guess my life is turning for the better,’_ Alex mused. He had a family that cared for his well-being, teachers that made sure he was okay, and a couple of friends. Sure, he was still anxious about things, and the disconcerting, ever present stress still tried to gnaw at his gut, but he felt a subtle comfort now. He had a new life, a home. He could be a normal kid again.

His eyes shifted, and he caught sight of his reflection in the musty glass. Alex looked different now. There were the obvious changes. His skin was getting a little more tan with the Hawaiian sun hitting his skin more often than not, darkening a handful of little freckles he had never noticed before. His hair was still long but it was more neat and tidy than a huge mess atop his head he wore the first time he stepped foot on the island. The color was also effected by the sunlight, looking lighter than before.

His eyes still held his history, not shining as brightly as they had before the whole MI6 mess. They matched his sharp jawline and thin face. He looked older than he probably ever had. Yet there was a softness he never really saw; a look of peace just peeking in that loosened his posture and unfurrowed his brows.

But what surprised him most, was the smile that was currently settled on his lips.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow guys... The story is done... I have gotten a comment or two about a sequel, and heres the verdict! There won't be one. I wrote this story in the span of two years from concept to drafts to proofreading (by myself mind you) to uploading. That's right! According to my first document, I created the first chapter in January 2017. 
> 
> The reason why I am less likely to make a sequel is: 1.) I never planned to make one. I finished this story under the impression that the most I would ever do is maybe a one shot or two. 2.) I have other projects that I'm working on. Ones that are going to be a bit more elaborate and longer! 3.) I no longer have access to Hawaii Five-0 to check my facts. Since it's been taken off of Netflix, I've had to scour wikipedia pages for stuff and that doesn't provide a lot of info. I can use DVDs from the library but I don't have a TV at college so I would be writing in the summer which is a problem because I have a job and two art commissions to complete. I don't want to use a third party site to watch either, I don't wasn't any viruses on my devices.
> 
> I have an idea for a one shot that wouldn't require a ton of watching/referencing (just two episodes) so that is. a possibility this summer but after that, this story will be put to rest.
> 
> I will note that I am not the first person to write Hawaii Five-0/Alex Rider Crossover content. That being said, I would prefer that people do not try to continue THIS story on their own (like they make a sequel or something of the kind). I don't know if my anxious heart would be able to handle someone suddenly making a sequel based on my content. I'd probably die or something.
> 
> If you want updates on any future content, my Tumblr is silverlightraita.tumblr.com
> 
> Before I end this note, I want to thank the people who have when consistent readers. There are four who comment on a good portion of my chapters and it brings me amassing joy like you'd never believe.
> 
> Fay  
> Alicori  
> Byuu_chan  
> ummmmm
> 
> Thank you four for brightening my days when your comments. 
> 
> And with that, we close our page on Alex Rider and the Five-0 Task force. God protect Danny's blood pressure from the stress of having two self-sacrificing lunatics on the island.


End file.
